Phantasma
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: After being sold to Freakshow as a slave, Danny is rescued by a mysterious man in the dead of night. Now under the protection of a billionaire and an obsessive ghost, can Danny's heart be saved? And just what are Vlad's true intentions? Pompous Pep.
1. The Prince of the Parade of Night

Although the cheers, piercing screams, and gasps of astonishment still permeated the boy's ears, he'd learned by now not to associate them as anything other then a meter for just how many rations he received later that night.

The sea of heads fifty feet below the swinging specter were turning in synch with the flow of the trapeze as it glided swiftly across the ravenous darkness of the tent, Lydia still clinging lazily to the bar, expression jaded.

Clinging to her feet, beneath his dark hood, Danny could hardly even see his fellow performer's expression, but he knew what it would be well enough by now. While he knew the Ringmaster's lover took her job quite seriously, and was one of the more popular entertainers in the cult following this wretched circus had, she'd done this routine close to seven hundred times in front of a live audience. Lord knew how hard the ghosts had to train in practice, let alone, how-

Oh. The tattooed specter was peering down at Danny, red eyes aglow like twinkling embers, strong with the contrast of her emerald flesh. If Lydia were known to have a sense of humor, and if she hadn't already marked the teen with scars very much the way she decorated her own body, Danny would have said she looked like a Christmas Tree.

How long had it been since he'd seen one of those?

But a ravenous, starving specter raspily drew its bony knuckles across Danny's insides and moaned. Cringing lightly as he remembered last night's mistake-he'd been four minutes too early for the finale, meaning the encore had had to scramble to end the show with a slightly dulled finale.

It was still magnificent-a perfect fantasia of darkness. But Freakshow had been furious, and it had cost the hybrid just a bit more then his supper that evening.

Danny felt his backside prickle in reminder as Lydia dramatically swung the two trapeze ropes around the center banister, twirling the two of them around it faster and faster, like a tetherball of glowing color. But just as the two were running out of freed rope, and were rising higher and higher into the air, Danny allowed himself to let go of Lydia's ankles, which disappeared in a burst of luminous, twinkling bats, which fluttered over the screaming hordes below.

Danny flipped through the air quite elegantly, but the sharp gasps from below indicated the audience had at last noticed that Danny had no other trapeze nor other performer to seize him. He heard shouts, shrieks, and desperate cries expand into a frenzied wall of collective chaos from below him as he began to plummet through the air, towards the Ringmaster's center.

Already bored, Danny stared dully at the tips of his black slippers as he fell, the long sleeves of his Grim Reaper onsemble fluttering madly in his wake. His hood tore backwards, and his brilliant, starlit hair caught the flew spotlights following him as he shot like a meteroite to Earth.

Three, two, one-

Shrieking, Lydia's bats swarmed towards him, hiding his dark form in a dazzling array of color, and then-

This was the one moment he could actually live for.

Hidden from Audience view, the bats discreetly phased Danny's robe away, and the boy soared into the air in a shower of sparks, right leg comfortably folded over the other as he ascended, faintly hearing applause ripple out from below him, a few strangled swear words, and one or two people calling upon their ancestors for deliverance.

The seventeen year old cooly surveyed his pathetic kingdom-his temporary kingdom, the only place he had any true power-below, and lifted his chin up in the eerie spotlights, hands plastered to his sides as he rose a few inches upward, in synch with the thunderous music the undead pit band was now playing.

Now dressed almost entirely in skin-tight, black leather tights, his silvery gloved hands clasped together, as if in prayer, he glanced idly behind himself, being sure to nonchalantly tuck his shining white spikes behind an ear. He wasn't at all certain why Freakshow insisted on it, but, considering the screams from the female entourage of the audience had increased...

Not quite touching his back, there were ruinous, silver feathers in the air around him, in the shape of wings. True to form, Lydia had sent the feather tattoos of the wings on her back glittering over Danny's from below. That meant he now had his cue...

The picture of an angel, Danny spun around and around the entire tent in dizzying circles, moving faster and faster as the bats flapping behind him began to fly into each other, creating a huge mass of dense mist in the middle of the circus ring, around which Danny was still soaring. The percussion swelled, and Lydia had reappeared in the mist's center in a flurry of black flames. _Danse Macabre_, the song of the dead-was now beginning, so it was time to...

Trembling, Lydia slowly raised her arms-and sent the dark mist around herself into an erruption of stars and shadows, which then began to shower below. As the audience leapt onto their seats, some jumping, eagerly grasping at the air and the 'illusions,' Lydia bent her head back as all the shapes began racing back to her, dragons, rodents, fanged terrors and eyeless beasts had their frightful shadows glide back to her flesh. Danny had stopped circling, and, as the crescendo for the classical music began, majestically pretended to conduct the flow as some of the monstrous illustrations grew enormous, with growing fangs, glowing eyes, and monstrous roars...

Other members of the Circus were now gliding through solid concrete, emerging from tiny boxes with steel barbs nailed from the outside in, and arriving in skeletal chariots of fire, pulled by horses with rolling red eyes. An extremely realistic looking skeleton began to play the violin, and in wintry, rustling winds that drove everyone in the audience to shudder, flew cackling into the air, twirling about after Danny, the leader of the parade of the night.

The crescendo swelled through the air as Danny ducked, dodged, and hurriedly spun away in aerial zigzags from jets of thunder making their cue on the stage. Perspiring, he rose his large eyes to the audience, watching a ghost race by one of the balcony seats available in the facility, and a dark little hand slip out as it tried to reach for it-

A ghost from behind accidentally bumped into Danny as the boy froze, staring at a little girl leaning dangerously over the old balcony, pawing longingly where the pretty specter had just been. It was far, far too noisy for him to discern voices, but he thought he heard a scream as a pair of pale arms reached out for the little girl-

Too late.

The little girl squealed, lost her balance, and slid over the edge, and fell like a stone. Most of the audience was too enthralled with the oncoming barrage of the supernatural to notice her slip-

Danny heard a scream of terror, but he was already shooting through the air like a silver star, ghostly core hammering frantically as he slipped out of place, and seized the small child before she could hit the ground.

Not remembering where she'd fallen from, and feeling the steel appliance over his right leg vibrate warningly, Danny had no choice but to rise back to the procession, now clutching the whimpering little girl.

Hearing whoops and applause explode again-clearly, they believed it was all part of the act, Danny took another look down at the child, who had big purple orbs, a heart shaped face, very pale skin, and dark hair, which was in pig tails. He mentally groaned, and slapped himself upside the head.

What kind of parent would bring their kids to a place like this-let alone let them nearly turn into pavement paint like that?

Rising in the air like a dove, Danny tightened his old reassuringly around the girl, who was now clutching him for dear life as he lead the ascension higher and higher into the air. He bent towards her ear, praying that she could hear him:

"Don't worry. I've got you."

The five year old just nodded, and buried her teary face in the phantom's shoulder as the finale rang out-and, in a hailstorm of fireworks, it at last did. Danny knew that he was supposed to take a bow to end the performance, but considering the girl was clutching onto him so tightly he probably would have lost consciousness were he in human form, he simply allowed the music to finish, and floated serenely in the air as his fellow performers bowed.

There was a split second of stunned silence. Then, roaring applause broke through, louder then the riptides of a major tsnunami. Danny moved his hand comfortingly over the back of the little girl's head as he surveyed tonight's audience of misfits, teenagers, emothatics, and goths. Roses (Many of which spraypainted black) were flying from the stands, and Danny guessed more then a few hands would be left raw and chapped from the tumtulous applause still piling on. On every face, there was amazement, and on every face, he could see delight.

But Danny in no way or form took part of their cheer. Looking down apprehensively at the direct ring below, he could see the dark form of his pitiful human master staring up at him-said pitiful human master holding the key to his life.

And the expression on his face made Danny feel an all-too familiar sense of sickening dread, and he was left, much, much more afraid of the Ringmaster's repercussions then he was of any old reenactment of an apocalypse.

Danny was at least allowed to help seek out the child's family; turned out, her now absolutely terrified elder sister brought her kid sister along after their parents had left her behind to babysit. Weak at the knees with relief, Danny watched the little girl's sister pull her up into a fierce embrace, affectionately nooging the little girl while the child-Samantha-cried out in abject annoyance.

A knot tightening deeper and deeper behind his throat, Danny had soberly watched the scene, before harshly telling off Sam's sister. In a way, he wished that she hadn't responded with feverish head nods and countless hand-shakes and words of gratitude.

Cruelty is so very, very easy to interpret. Kindness, or at least the sort kindness Danny remembered-had simply lead him into a new circle of hell. The ghosts who willingly served under the Ringmaster's order were cold, hardened spirits-or at the very least, they were unfeeling, unemotional, and strictly calculating. Danny couldn't remember the last time he'd seen one of the troupe members smile in genuine content, or cry.

That had rubbed off on him just a bit, he supposed. He didn't do either, much.

His hollow green eyes narrowed as Tina-the elder sister-had her collection of gothic wannabe friends (Probably sustaining their angst through their parents' money) bend over Sam, the girls fussing and cooing.

Uncomfortable, Danny watched the emotional scene for about as much longer as he could bear (i.e, three seconds) before turning around and soaring away, inexplicably aware of Sam happily waving goodbye in his wake.

At the very least, his punishment was the Strongman, and not the whip.

After the Circus had been successfully evacuated, and everybody left the smoky, popcorn-covered lines of plastic seats, the crews had been gathered together near the caravans, same as usual. Freakshow normally had an overall analysis of the performance that he wanted to run through, and 'correct any thoroughly undesirable anomalies, as to prevent them from occuring again.'

In this case, it normally meant pain. However, Freakshow never, ever beat Lydia-though he was often known to criticize the female ghost almost unmercilessly. It made Danny want to snort when he was alone. Lydia, while stern, was not overtly sadistic, and had taught Danny most of the performance arts that he knew.

But considering most of the performers that Freakshow were already dead, and were able to shake off one of Freakshow's temper-attack blows with a few shakes of the head, it meant that the young halfa was customarily prime target for the Ringmaster's wrath.

An enormous green specter with bulging muscles was now bending over Danny, one of his recycling bin-sized fists raised in silent warning. Then:

Danny saw stars; and thought that he were flying once again, though this time, it certainly wasn't of his own volition. His lungs burned from want of the breath that had just been kicked out of his lungs, and-

"Aaah-!"

His voice was a muffled gasp.

Hitting the ground, and skinning the Earth a few times before he stopped accelerating, Danny lay back on the ground, pitiful chest heaving as spots bloomed in his vision, blocking out the beams from the nearby spotlights.

The Strongman grunted, and slowly dragged his body across the floor, to where the ghost boy was now lying in a crumpled heap. Heap spinning wildly, Danny staggered to his feet, outrage and indignantion coursing through his veins.

"H-How did I d-do wrong?" he demanded, struggling to speak through his gasps as something warm trickled over his eye. Probably ectoplasm. The halfa struggled away from one of the Strongman's right-hooks, and instictively sent a brilliant green energy blast towards the Ringmaster, who was lazily leaning on his walking stick nearby.

With the prowess of a tiger, Lydia leapt in front of her Master, effortlessly knocking aside the blast with a scowl. But just as she crouched into a battle position, fists clenched, the deathly pale human flicked open his cane top with his thumb, and pressed the large red button that greeted him.

He wasn't to be disappointed; a sneer curled his unpleasant features as soon as he heard electric thunder, and a scream echo from behind him, before a thud resonated shortly afterwards.

It was now a symphony of silence, underneath the spotlights. No ghost sent the quivering teenager cowering on the floor a look of sympathy, though Lydia did raise her eyebrow at her Master just a bit. But just the same, Danny Phantom phased helplessly back into human form, now wheezing instead of gasping on the filthy floor.

The spotlights were burning holes in his vision...

Like an insect that's been stepped on, but isn't quite dead yet, Danny twitched madly, crying out as a large brown boot suddenly appeared in his vision, burying its steel toe into the boy's chest cavity. Danny cried out, and blindly threw his hands over the perpertrator's foot, desperate to tug him off. But the foot only applied more pressure, and the teen's screams filled the room until the boy finally let go, and the foot relinquished just a bit.

Blood now pouring from the cut over his left eye and from both nostrils, Danny stared blankly at the Ringmaster, who was smiling coyly at him from above.

"Oh, bad, bad move, little boy." He _tsked_ condescendingly, rubbing one index finger against the other, still tutting. Danny cast him a deathly glare, but all it resulted in was another blow-this one, most unfortunately, to his face.

It burned; for a moment, there was numbness, and then, Danny's hands raced to cup his wound, which now stung like a thousand bug bites.

Smugly, Freakshow lightly dusted his sleeves, as if he were afraid that he'd dirtied himself.

"You simply MUST get over your gluttinous love for punishment, Danny! The Good Lord says that gluttony is a sin-I'm quite certain that you'll perish in hell for it."

Danny let out a wild laugh as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, and dragged himself across the stage, sheer, unadulturated _hatred _bubbling in every fibre of his being.

"Hell? Really? You mean that in hell, I'm not stuck with_ sad, ghost-envious jerks _who go around ordering the Undead even though you couldn't float half an inch off the ground? Sign me up!"

Silence. Freakshow had been striding away from the adolescent with a smirk, but then, the Master froze, his face freezing into shock.

But slowly, very slowly, he turned around, his face going purple with anger. There was a collective gasp from some members of the troupe. Everyone knew that the boy had gone too far.

Danny's smirk slowly died away upon seeing the Ringmaster's expression, and his swollen face turned deathly, ashen pale.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, as the Ringmaster slowly began to advance on him. Danny slid back a few more inches, attempting in vain to stagger to his feet. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I-"

He bumped into something; three pairs of hands grasped him by the shoulders. Three dark clowns with skulls painted over their bloody attire were staring at him with dull, glassy eyes. They only knew this drill only too well.

While he writhed and kicked at his restraints, yelping with desperation, Freakshow only came closer and closer, device still clutched in his gloved hand. But instead of triggering the machinery strapped to Danny's ankle again, he only seized the frightened hybrid by the chin, forcing him to look up into a pair of mad red eyes.

"There's another rule that the Good Lord enforces, Danny," he said quietly, tightening his grip to vicelike standards when Danny tried to pull his head away, baby blue eyes still being boiled into.

The pale human stood up straight, staring down at his star performer with something akin to disgust.

"Obey your mother and father, Danny, dear. For you see..."

His lips curled into a grimy, truly evil smile while Danny still fought at the clowns' hold, wincing when their talons dug into his shoulders:

"...while your Mummy and Daddy might have sold you to me, I'm sure they'd like to know my money's worth, hmm?"

He trailed over to Danny's side again, smirking at the young boy's detesting stare, not missing the familiar flash of agony in the boy's eyes.

"Do you remember that your Daddy didn't look back at you when your DOG CRATE was being loaded into my Caravan? Do you remember how Mummy counted out every single bill I gave her in her gloved little hands? Personally, my parents would have been _thrilled_ to find out that I was a ghost, but considering that they already have a Yale bound daughter, I'm sure a little mistake of birth is easy enough to pull out of the picture-"

Danny struggles became much more violent, his eyes blazing emerald slits, highlighting the dark shadows beneath them.

"SHUT UP!"

The bald man leaned his hand on the top of Danny's head, peering inquisitively off into space.

"Hmm? Why, don't tell me you haven't been doing your homework again, you stupid, stupid little boy. Surely you realize that's no way to address the Master of the Ring?"

Quite cheerful nonetheless, he pressed the red button again, sending ectoplasmic bolts through the boy's system, listening to his screams.

Then he pressed it again.

And again.

By now, Danny was sobbing dry sobs-he'd figured he'd emptied his tear vaults a long, long time ago. He curled into a ball, shaking as the occasional spark of electricity raced up his pearly, bruised flesh. Whimpering, he buried his face in his hands, willing more then ever to shut out the lights glaring in his eyes, the painful vibes of his empty stomach and broken skin, and the ever, ever present cackles of the man still smiling satanically down at him from his ears.

At last, Danny spoke, knowing that he now had nothing left to lose:

"T-t-that little k-kid could have d-died. It w-wouldn't have l-looked good for the s-show crew i-if there-there'd been a genuine d-death."

Freakshow tugged a piece of string off one of his cuffs, looking bored.

"Oh, I definitely appreciate that-but I do wish you'd stop insulting my intelligence, boy. I was watching your face-you REALLY have to do something about that heart on your shoulders-and I saw your _fear_."

Genuine excitement blossomed in his voice, and the Cheshire Cat Smile grew.

"Poor, dear Danny wants to play hero again and save brat from toppling to an early and well-deserved grave. You didn't want to save face-you wanted to save HER. You flew out of line. You disobeyed me."

All childish teasing drained out of his voice and expression.

"You backtalked your master. And...what else did he do, children?" asked Freakshow sweetly, turning around to face the mutinous multitude crowded around Danny's shaking form.

The answer came immediately and monogamously from everyone, in lifeless tones:

"Had the nerve to correct our Great and Magnificent Ringmaster, King of the Ghosts."

Freakshow sighed contently.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, lovingly fingering something in his pocket. "And Danny, I do believe three years of our super happy fun time together would have at least crammed _something_ into your miserable little blockhead..."

He bent to pinch at Danny's cheek, mockingly swinging the boy's head back and forth.

"...I don't handle _constructive criticism_ very well. Particularly yours, when you happen to be a disgrace of nature."

Danny tried to bite his fingers, but Freakshow simply patted him on the head, tsking once again.

"Particularly one that Mummy and Daddy aren't coming back for. You see, Danny, you're mine. Your body is mine, that lovely little ghost of yours that brings in so much money in is mine, and..."

He withdrew a small, glowing stick from his coat pocket, and a long, barbed cord flowed out from the base. Freakshow licked it teasingly, enjoying the sight of Danny's face going starkly white in terror again.

"...the blood that I'm about to spill is mine. You three, turn him around."

Danny started to shake, but the spectral hands simply turned the boy over, and phased his white T-shirt away, revealing Danny's pale, shrunken stomach.

His back scars had, at the very least, converged into one enormous mark. The whip wounds from Freakshow's 'toy' were impossible for even his quickly-recovering halfa body to heal.

Listening to Freakshow breathe from behind him, Danny closed his eyes, blue orbs stinging.

"Please. Don't," he whispered, through unmoving lips.

He almost thought he could hear Freakshow shrug.

"Terribly sorry, but bad, unloving little children deserve to be spanked. Or sold off to the Circus-whichever one works. However, should you finally acknowledge my status as the 'Ghost King,' I promise not to be TOO rough."

Danny only softly scoffed under his breath, managing another bitter smile. After a moment, he heard a sigh from behind him.

"Ah, well. There's always next performance."

Danny braced himself as he heard the whip whistle back in the air, and fly down.

He woke up several hours later in his 'caravan'-a wagon with glowing green bars that had once held an undead Siberian Tiger or two.

It was unnaturally still tonight-normally, there were a few crew members milling about out back after a performance. But tonight, Danny could hear nothing from the other wagons, caravans-not even from the large Circus Gothica tent rippling in the late evening breeze nearby. He shivered, gooseflesh bumping up over already half-healed, violet bruises.

Lying on his stomach on a series of filthy towels, he ignored the sparse pile of half-filled popcorn bags lined up in the corner of his caravan-occasionally, Lydia grabbed a few before clean-up for him. Still trembling, stomach dry heaving, he attempted to stand, and bend his back, which had freshly woken welts gleaming in what little light there was to be found outside-and the series of lanterns the crew left by the cars.

A bolt of agony left him winded, and he fell senseless for a moment or two. After ten minutes of staring down at his wooden floor and old towel, he at last feebly grasped the nearby bars, and very, very gingerly, began to slide himself up.

Now only in slightly bloody jeans, he continued to crouch like a hunchback, afraid to bend his back into position. Careful not to bump his head on the ceiling, Danny quietly reached for the towel he normally slept on, eyes unusually pensive.

How many nights had he spent himself crying himself to sleep, asking himself the same question over and over again?

How had he now-just now-finally received his answer?

Reaching for an old, crooked post on the ceiling, Danny carefully tied one end of the towel to it, and, after tugging it a few times, began to twist it into a rope. Darn it, he wished he had some water. This would be a lot easier otherwise.

Danny set about creating a noose, face almost tranquilly calm as he carefully measured his neck. He was almost surprised he wasn't humming.

Three years ago, he would have never even considered this.

Three years ago, he would have responded to one of Freakshow's punishments with shouts, anger, and tears.

But he was accustomed to being locked up-what was the point? Thanks to the scanner Freakshow had had surgically attached to his leg...

The teen paused in his work, and slowly raised his foot upwards, his face crumpling as he beheld the ugly scars the machina had left behind on the strap. His boots hid it well enough, but it still linked him to the old spawn of Satan-still shocked him whenever he'd tried to get close enough to a human, or drop a message with a plea for help.

His punishments had gotten increasingly worse; now, he lived no better then a common animal. A flea-ridden, diseased animal.

The bitter smile returned, but so did the trembling. Danny rested his sore back against the bars once again, feeling the night air brush soothingly at the stinging.

He smiled again.

And then, he sank to his knees, and wept under his makeshift noose.

How long he sat there, he did not know. It was a while yet before he discerned a soft sound coming out from the wind murmuring and moaning outside:

"Daniel."

The voice was low, but like velvet-and certainly quite unlike any of the crew member's voices, or like Freakshow's, whose normal tone could be compared to that of a trapped cat's.

The poor boy started like a jackrabbit; and, forgetting his painful back, tried to jump to his feet, only succeeding in accidentally knocking his head against the bars. He lay against for a few more seconds, stunned.

He'd finally cracked up. Well, he supposed it DID have to happen sooner or later-though he wished it hadn't started with a name he'd almost forgotten he technically had.

A pause. Danny swallowed with difficulty, throat very dry.

Might as well confirm said insanity. After a moment, Danny reluctantly spoke up, looking warily about him in the empty cage-the empty caravans, the silent circus tent, where Freakshow and the others were probably having a drink.

"...hello?"

A pause. Then, Danny felt the wind ruffle against his hair from the bars he was leaning against., his heart hammering.

Then, an exceedingly cautious, an exceedingly gentle touch on the back of his neck. By a warm, human hand.

Danny shouted, and twisted around, spots fluttering in his eyes again, but he took no matter as he anxiously inched to one corner of the cage, glancing about for a weapon.

He raised his voice again, addressing the darkness:

"Who's there?"

Had circus patrons come to gawk at him from inside his cage again? Danny seized at a bar, tugging vainly at it, much as he always had in his free time. Damn, if there was a way to phase through the ceiling or floor-!

Danny's breathing esculated as he wildly surveyed the outdoors, watching the trees rustle from overhead, the black Circus Gothica pennants fluttering.

Silence. Silence, save for the wind's nocturnal lullaby.

After a moment, Danny uneasily sank to his knees again, scooting away from the bars, where he'd be safely out of reach.

He wasn't sure why he was so frightened. Teenagers sometimes came to the caravans-and, upon finding a human Danny, assumed that he was something akin to the 'Freakshow.' What lovely irony.

In the beginning, he'd tried to seize this golden opportunity, and beg his spectators for help-but that had never worked, either. They'd only gawked at him, shoving fistfuls of popcorn in their mouths. Occasionally, they admired the vast collection of 'body art' that he had collected, but they usually called his 'act' rather lame. Sometimes, they hurled garbage at him when they wanted to see him do a trick.

Danny's jaw tightened in anger, but just as quickly elapsed into despair. Hanging himself was looking rather appealing once again...

A chill ran down his spine upon recalling the foreign touch-one that had been seemingly gentle, one that belonged to some other kid; a kid who wasn't a performer of Circus Gothica. It was probably the touch people gave another before you got seriously bruising.

Danny slowly rocked back and forth, uneasily eyeing the space before him, where he'd sworn that someone had called out his old name. Visitors to the Circus Gothica usually called him _Phantasma_-the stupid name that Freakshow had dubbed him.

Was this another of Freakshow's tricks?

Frowning lightly, Danny moved his hand back, only to brush it against something soft. He glanced down in surprise, before his eyes widened in bewilderment.

No way.

No freaking, _friggin'_ way.

It was a peach; a lovely, unspoiled, fuzzy, golden peach. It rolled slightly as Danny sharply whipped his hands away from it, certain that it had to be an illusion. Amorpho sometimes played these sort of tricks on him whenever the shape-shifting actor felt particularly upstaged by Danny in a performance. Sometimes, he'd see one of his parents standing outside his cage, gazing at him.

Except he'd never seen the Actor become anything but another person before. Could he transfigure into a peach-or be stupid enough to try?

He stared at it for a moment or two. Then, he poked it. After cautiously verifying it as a solid, he hesitantly picked it up, cupping it in his hands.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a real peach. One Halloween, when he'd done a particularly grandiose performance in St. Charles, he'd been given all the apples he could eat for an evening. He'd made himself practically sick, but just recalling the experience made his mouth water.

Confused, he gazed outside again, towards the stars he could see speckled in the distance.

Why in the world would Lydia bring him anything? Certainly Freakshow had to have forbidden his usual rations again-and the tattoo artist was probably still angry at him for attacking the Ring Master. So who-

He heard his stomach moan, and he stared at the peach the way a man dying of thirst might look at a pitcher of water.

What if it were poisonous? But hadn't he just been prepared to kill himself moments ago? Oh, the heck with it-

Danny swooped down, and immediately took a huge bite, shuddering as the peach's unbearably sweet juices touched his tongue. If he'd been any hungrier, he would have lapped at his own sticky hands.

Guzzling sweet nectar, Danny groaned in bliss as he ate around the peach core, wondering if the little stone were edible, too. It was a somewhat sad thought, but it was kind of hard to make much reasoning in a state of ravenous euphoria. He tore off the skin, not caring that he ate that, too-

"Hungry, aren't you?"

Mouth full of peach, Danny jolted, a bit of peach juice running down the corner of his mouth. Immediately, he stood up once again, sending drops of peach and blood scattering on the floor.

Alarmed, Danny scanned about his cage again, determined that he would not make a fool out of himself. Some audience members had once tried to get him dancing for a bit of rotten food, but Danny had simply lay there, tolerating their insults. Starving seemed an acceptable alternative to further humiliation.

His eyes, so superior to a normal human's-moved to a dark, lanky silhouette draped a few feet away from his caravan, much taller then the normal teens who haunted Freakshow's caravan. Danny squinted slightly, attempting to make out a face.

But the man had seen him looking, and began walking towards him. In the soft glow of the few lit candles flickering around outside the cage, Danny could make out a pair of gleaming black shoes, a finely pressed, articulate tuxedo, and...

He stared suspiciously at the man's face, not quite able to articulate how old he was. Although there were deep shadows underneath the man's hooded, midnight eyes, and he had long, white hair-his face didn't look so very lined at all. Probably meant that Moneybags got himself botox, or something.

Danny snorted lightly, and his visitor gave him a small smile in return. Immediately, Danny felt wary again, and turned to give the man a calculating stare.

His eyes were brimming with what looked like joy, and the unblinking gaze was starting to make the boy uncomfortable. What business did the man have to come down and-

But the man spoke up, interrupting Danny's train of thoughts.

"How's your ankle doing?" he asked gently, motioning at Danny's right ankle, the one unmarked by Freakshow's steel 'shock collar.'

Confused, Danny twitched it in response, not understanding where the man was getting it. Of course, essentially everything else was blazing under a wave of welts and fresh bruises, but his ankle didn't hurt at all.

The man's pale hand slowly slithered through the bars, and lightly stroked the appendage. Jumping, Danny went white, and hurriedly dragged it out of reach before beginning to slide away again. The tuxedo-clad man bit his lip, and slowly withdrew his hand from the caravan again.

"Terribly sorry," he murmured, staring at the drops of blood on the floor with a small frown beginning to grow on his face. "It's just that during your performance three weeks ago in New Hampshire, you were favoring your left foot over your right when you started to dance. I noticed there was a bandage draped over it, though it was made to accent your newest costume."

Danny's jaw dropped, mind going blank for a second.

...yes, he had injured himself in practice, but just how had the man known that, or known that he'd had another costume fitting? Something uneasy was looming on the surface.

Danny merely glanced down at the peach remains in his hands, wondering if it would be considered bad manners to continue eating it in front of his possibly-stalker visitor. Plenty of people followed the Gothica around on Tour, and he'd seen several visiting men disappear with some of the female troupe in their caravans before, but...

He closed his eyes, wishing that he'd thought to wipe off his stupid eye makeup.

"Really? Well, I'm doing well enough, now, thank you all the same." he said curtly, wondering when the weird man would get bored of Q&A.

He could still feel the man gazing at him. Unsettling. He thought he heard the man chuckle.

"Yes, well, I do make it a point to pursue Circus Gothica's perfomances, and regularly check into the events. I scarcely grow tired of it."

He paused, a small, ravenous smile curling onto his face, as if he were enjoying his own little private joke.

"Well...not so much for the performance, as for...well, you might say my particular venture is my guilty little fascination."

He must have been ogling one of the Female Stars. Danny's brow furrowed.

"Doesn't a grown man have anything better to do then to follow a stupid circus?" the boy muttered, before goosebumps began rising at the back of his neck.

Wait a second...wait just a darn, bloody-!

"How did you know I was _Phantasma_?" Danny angrily demanded, his mouth forming into a small O, accidentally dropping what was left of his peach outside the bars. Mentally cursing himself, he wished he had it back-to either devour it, or huck it at the man. How did he...?

The man simply smiled again, which was all the more unnerving.

"The first time I came to Circus Gothica, I admit, I was more then a little skeptical concerning the validity of the act. However, when I saw actual ghosts performing for your sad little employer, I was rather intrigued. Begging your pardon on my slight to your boss, Daniel."

"Believe me, nothing taken," the teen mumbled, now starting to feel a little scared again. Another good question: While people admired the Gothica actors as unworldly skilled, few people recognized them as ghosts.

And yet another good one: How the heck did the man know his name?

But the man had not yet finished. His hands were draped over the emerald bars, never taking his gaze off the teen.

"However, my interest soon waned...until your number came on, dear boy. I thought I'd already died when I saw you ascend up those lanterns, into the air. You do ballet magnificently, by the way."

"It's not ballet, it's performance art!" Danny snapped, his face flaming. The man simply shrugged, and Danny scowled, inching back to a corner of his prison.

"And you're still not answering me!"

Vlad gave the boy a gentle look.

"As I was saying, I literally believed I'd died-and that _you'd_ died-when your hair turned white, and you took off. I'd never actually believed in the possibility of a human and spectral hybrid coexisting _naturally_ in the same body!"

Danny opened his mouth, and then shut it as Vlad went on to exclaim,

"Such a miracle! It was beyond fantastic! When you swooped overhead, I had to resist the urge to tug you down myself, and confirm for myself whether or not those ridiculous wings were actually apart of your body. Your skin was so pale-and then, your entire body lit up like a candle-"

"Stage Art, dude," said Danny nervously.

The man cast him an annoyed look.

"Do not insult my intelligence, boy. When the performance ended, I tried to get to you-speak with you-but you'd already disappeared, and when I went to the Caravans to affirm your location, they had already disembarked."

The man shuddered at the memory, and drooped his head, allowing his forehead to rest against the glowing bars as he miserably stared at the ground.

"I knew then that I had to follow the elusive haunt. It's been close to seven months, now-I've been following you from Orlando to Quebec."

Stalker. Stalker Fruitloop. Instead of a new towel, why didn't he just ask for a nice can of mace for the Christmas Truce?

His visitor looked up, seemed to take notice of Danny's expression, and worriedly commented:

"Forgive me, Daniel, if I'm upsetting you. Truth of the matter is, I'm retired, now-and a rather eccentric specterologist. I simply have the means to pursue my interests."

Danny cringed, not at all enjoying the term. So what was he-some fascinating phenomenon to lock up in a lab and study?

"Y'know what they call a lot of homeless people?" Danny snapped, watching the man give him a bewildered look.

"I...I, well, ah-"

"A lot of people call the majority of them crazy. But when a wealthy person starts acting 'crazy,' people simply call him 'eccentric,' which, of course, is all right then."

The man stared at him for a moment, and then, burst out laughing. Raising an eyebrow, Danny watched as the man clutched at his side, still chuckling as he clung onto the bar. Once his fit had subsided, he turned to look at the boy again, smirking, and wiping his eyes.

"So very true. You really are just as brilliant as I heard."

Immediately, Danny was back on his guard.

"And how do you know my name? And what's YOURS, for that matter?"

That wiped the smile off the man's face. He uneasily cleared his throat, not quite looking at the boy from the cage.

"...Daniel, I needed to know more about you. I wanted to know if you had parents who traveled with the circus; whether or not you went to school, whether you stayed in comfortable..."

He trailed off, and his unhappy frown spread across his face as realization finally broke through his euphoria upon contacting the halfa.

"Daniel. Are you staying in that revolting...thing of your own volition?"

No answer. The man's eyes flickered to Danny's chest cavity, and his expression darkened. Cursing himself, his visitor struck his forehead, eyes narrowing into blue slits.

"Daniel. You did a marvelous job in your performance this evening. But you're covered in..."

No answer. Danny seemed to have found an immediate interest in the full moon outside. The aristocrat trailed off, before hurrying around the other side of the caravan. The teen attempted to twist his body back around, but it was too late. The man had seen his back.

For a moment, Danny could only hear the crickets sleepily chirping to one another, and the grass rustling in the breeze.

Then, he winced, as a frightful roar echoed from behind him, loud enough to break the sound barrier. He shoved his palms over his ears as the entire caravan began shaking wildly back and forth on its wheels-screeching a jagged, shrill rhythm on the tracks beneath it.

Numb with disbelief, Danny tried to twist around again, but his back stung violently, and his stomach heaved; his concentration was then focused on avoiding the peach's returning for a visit.

He shook, and gagged, as the Earth continued vibrating, making the wooden floor rock violently back and forth, sending Danny's face straight to the ground.

"Ooof!" he gasped, feeling a concourse of anger and confusion sweep through him once again as a stream of strangled swear words that all sounded suspiciously like dessert titles echoed out behind him. Still nursing his sore back, Danny winced as the wind swept into a gale, plastering his raven spikes behind him.

What was this? An Earthquake? No, Earthquakes didn't make the wind howl like this, nor make such a bone-biting chill in the air.

What happened to the man? What was he doing? Was he alright?

"Where are you?" Danny shouted over the wind, shuddering as cold vibes began to rack the air once again.

The wind picked up, and started to whistle in the boy's ears, making him plaster hands over his head as a new voice echoed out:

"Wait here."

The new voice was gaunt, hoarse, and carried a ragged edge, as if its owner were slightly hysterical. Who else had come to the caravans?

But just as Danny finally stumbled to his feet, and spun around, he found himself alone once again.

The sky rumbled overhead. Considering the number of clouds slowly swarming over the stars, it was going to rain soon. And hard.

'Wait here.'

Lying on his stomach again, the boy kicked his legs back and forth in the air, wondering, as was his wont, if he were dreaming. The man had all but disappeared a few feet away from him-and it had already started pouring outside.

'Wait here...' What else was he supposed to do? Danny would have laughed; would have cried if the situation had not been so serious. Watching a small bruise fading away on his wrist, he stuck out his hands from behind his cage, cupping them so as to collect water. Hurriedly, he drew them back in, took several hasty, gulping sips, and repeated.

By tomorrow afternoon, things would be much the same as they always were. He'd wake up, Lydia would put ointment on his back, and they'd get practicing for tomorrow's show.

He cast a curious look at the looming circus tent nearby, wondering why none of the performers had yet to return back for the night.

Curling up under one of his two towels, Danny waited for the rain plattering on his roof to lull him to sleep, but tonight, the heavy curtain of plummeting rain was far too noisy. Thunder kept booming overhead, which made the boy a little nervous. Weren't the Ghostproof bars on his prison electrical conductors?

He thought he could hear some heavy explosions emanating from the nearby circus-he supposed that they were practicing their cannon routine. He wasn't at all sure why they were bothering in the middle of a storm.

Biting the inside of his mouth to keep himself from making a noise, Danny thought he could faintly hear screams overhead, but surely that was the thunder. He curled up into a warm ball, remembering the creepy visitor's words.

If he had indeed been real, he knew who and what Danny was. Of course, there was no feasible way to get anyone to believe him-though dying under the Guys in White and dying under Freakshow's thumb were essentially one and the same...

If the man cared enough to stalk him, what was he after? There was the obvious, but as Danny didn't need another nightmare, he was not going to dwell on that. What if the man were willing to continue following them? What if he were-

Danny chuckled softly.

He'd learned by now not to hope. Perhaps the man was simply just like the other Emo-wannabes who haunted his existence-a cruel lunatic. If he just forgot about him, and-

He started; he could hear footsteps moving towards him in the long, wet grass. Danny immediately shot his head up, staring at his sober visitor once again.

He was steadily getting soaked; his hair, which was not white, but silver-was plastered to his head. His expression was unfriendly, to say the least, and on his arm...

"You're bleeding," Danny faltered, wondering where in the world the large gash had come from. Had the man simply run off with the other man who'd followed him to Danny's cage?

The man simply shrugged, still managing to look somewhat debonair, even if the slanky man DID look remarkably close to a drowned cat.

"As are you. But I don't see anyone doing anything about that, mmm?"

Danny flushed, but the color soon drained out of his cheeks. Vlad was now pointing a titanium pistol directly at the cage, lines under his eyes more accented then ever.

"W-What the heck are y-you doing?" he demanded, nervously inching away from the man's aiming rage, considering screaming for help. They'd never come before, but...

The man only gave him a cold stare.

"Move, Daniel" was all he said, before he pulled the trigger.

BANG!

With a burst of ectoplasmic energy, and the ground rumbling beneath him once again, Danny flinched, throwing his arms out before him to avoid the inevitable-

The entire Caravan vibrated wildly, and now, the scent of burning metal and wood reached his nostrils. Knocked down into the corners by the force of the blast, Danny parted his trembling fingers slightly.

What he saw convinced him at last that he was dreaming.

The door had become an enormous, smoking crater-half of the caravan had been blown away into a pile of blackened cinders, with the ghostly metal twisted in melted, unrecognizable shapes, with green fire still lapping at the edges.

The man gestured impatiently at the boy, but Danny was still stunned in the corners. With a sigh, the man carefully navigated his way inside past the shrapnel, and slowly reached downwards for the teen.

At last recovering some feeling in his numb legs, Danny did not permit the man to pick him up, but did take his hand, and allowed him to guide him out into the rain, underneath the dark skyline; free.

Danny lay on the wet grass, watching dully as the man approached him with a glowing green key-the one that Freakshow had taunted him with so many times.

"How?" he asked feebly, as the man bent over him, warning him not to move as he set about unlocking the mechanical tendrils from Danny's flesh. "I d-don't understand. What happened? Where's the other-"

But the man ignored him.

"Daniel. Be quiet. This is going to take a little time-I assume, of course, that you can't phase this off?"

It took Danny a moment to realize that the man was still talking to him. Rain still flying down, he watched in disattached disbelief as the man began unlocking some of the many seals on the boy's shock collar.

Something warm was streaming down Danny's face again, but he couldn't tell if he were crying, or if that was simply rain. Maybe both.

Danny glanced towards the tents again, questions still buzzing inside of him like a horde of angry bees. But desperation was more prominant.

"How did you get this back?" he asked quietly, wincing as the man withdrew a screw from his leg. Maybe it was good to be so numb. While the screws were bloody, they didn't seem to be causing him much distress. It was kind of hard to see what the man was doing, though.

The man peeled away a few wires, being careful not to shock either of them, particularly in the rain.

"Oh...the Ringmaster of Circus Gothica and I had a little chat. We decided it was in everyone's best interests if I were to take you under my custody."

Ignoring that last line, as Danny knew he was going to get as far, far away as he possibly could from this man and this evil place as soon as he could, he asked another question:

"You bribed him?" Danny asked hoarsely, voice cracking in disbelief. There was no way in hell that the deranged freak would let his star go. He would have had to offer a gross billion before the ringmaster would even consider the possibility.

The man scoffed, before slowly withdrawing the penultimate piece of Danny's shackle, a cord flexing in his forehead upon seeing the skin that had been eaten away.

"Depends on what you mean by 'bribing' dear boy. I simply introduced him to an old friend, is all. There. You're good to go."

Staring at the bare, though heavily scarred flesh of his ankle for the first time in months, Danny sat there for a moment, and then, attempted to go ghost. He half-expected a surge of fire to rush in, as was the restraining device's wont to do so when he tried to transform outside the Circus Tent. Phasing through the tent flaps would be suicide, too, considering that they were ghost-repellent.

But nothing happened.

Breathing borderline hyperventialation, Danny stared at his gloved hands and silver feet, underneath the heavens. With no shackles. No spectral bounds.

It was just...him.

He smiled, standing up uncertainly, not noticing that the aristocrat's eyes were still following his every move. Like he did in the ring, he slowly extended his arms out, closing his eyes as he felt the raindrops plaster over his eyes.

And then, he promptly fainted.

Still dreaming...

He heard a strangled sound, an irritated snarl, and found himself floating. The pain in his back was all but gone now, because he was still dreaming.

He had to be. Only, this dream would kill him if he left. Maybe, just maybe, Freakshow had whipped him into a coma, and he'd be sleeping for the rest of his life. Ah, but what a blissful alternative!

He heard a car engine slowly purr to life, though he didn't comprehend what it was. Something cold and wet draped itself around him, then went away, before an annoyed voice answered: "Franz, just fetch another one. We're soaked."

That didn't really mean anything to the boy, at this point. Delirious from delight, pain, and hunger, he opened his eyes slightly as he found himself adrift on something warm. He heard a car door slam, a set of footsteps hurry away, and another door open and slam several feet away.

Hands began moving through his hair, and he opened his eyes a bit more, smiling faintly at the looming lights overhead. Face growing pink in color, he felt a hand press into his cheek, and he unconsciously nuzzled into the touch, spots coloring his vision once again.

He had a genuine moment of lucidity as his mouth opened one last time, not comprehending where he was, or who he was, for that matter.

"Who are you? What's your name?"

The hands withdrew, and then, Danny felt an icy breeze drift over him once again, as a pair of unfamiliar gloved hands seized him by the midrift, lay his head on something soft, and began stroking at his hair, albeit a bit more roughly then before.

Before he drifted off, he heard a voice rumble from overhead, so different then the man's catlike purr:

"Vladimir Plasmius. At your service."

In the silent, outdoor practice Ring, Amorpho surveyed his new kingdom, not at all sorry by the scene that lay before him, though admittedly, a little nauseated.

Ectoplasm. Green ectoplasm everywhere, running in little pools, the rain helping to spread it trickling downhill in all directions. He could taste the smell of gore. Thank heavens he'd been lurking in his own caravan when this had all started, elsewise, he the faceless ghost knew he would not be alive.

He'd watched the terrible ghost from a distance, shuddering at the great and awful memory of the slaughtering. The vampiric ghost with red, red eyes had been in a fury-and had left only moments ago, when every single performer lay dead. How sad, that even a ghost's best techniques should omit to nothing against such armagedon.

'Day of wrath, day of mourning! Heaven and Earth in ashes burning...'

He hummed lightly under his breath, passing a few spleens that had been torn out, a clown's face that had been premptively ripped off, and...a door that had been knocked off its hinges, marked with a cliche star and the words 'Manager...'

With his umbrella, Amorpho kicked over the door, and drew back, aghast at the scene.

Covered head to toe in bruises, burns, lacerations, there lay the remains of the Ringmaster, next to the motionless figure of his beloved Lydia. She was covered in emerald stains; he in red. Both of their hearts had been torn out.

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><p>Whoa. O.o That was...whoa. *Cowers under bed.*<p>

Okay, yes, a little cliche, I know. But it's my first M rated fiction, so please don't hold it against me, peoples.

Let's clarify a few things, shall we...?

Uno: Danny and Vlad can touch the bars in human form. Otherwise, they just get a good shock.

Dos: Vlad still has a LOT of 'splaining to do. And he's actually unaware of what truly happened to the circus. O.o Plasmius and Masters are kind of...complicated to explain. Not so much that they're different entities...they're just not one and the same.

Tres: Danny doesn't really want to go with Vlad; he's just a little high on happy right about now. And sick.

Quatro: I KNOW that the spelling might not be great. I don't have Word. Get off of me.

Cinco: Yes, I do realize this is something akin to Monster House. But the Plot Bunnies won't go away.

Seis: Please review! :D *Eyes get watery* Please?


	2. In Safety

Hey, everyone! :) Gosh, I got a better response from this story then I'd hoped...thank you so much. Hope you guys enjoy-please remember to review!

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><p><em>He remembered a pair of orbs floating adrift in the dark that had changed color with the speed of a traffic light, but not much else. It had been cold...wet...and entirely impossible. No. He wouldn't cling to the memories of his fantasy-why do Freakshow's work for him? It was sick; masochistic even-to keep cutting himself up like this.<em>

_Of course he deserved it, somehow. He must have. For the sake of his sanity these past ghastly three years, he let himself come to terms with the idea that he must have done something horrible in his short career as a crime-fighter. Like the 'karma' theory Sam was always spouting: What goes around, comes around. Otherwise, there was nothing but bitterness waiting for him if he came upon the conjecture that he...hadn't deserved the three years of backbreaking slave labor, of always being shipped in a dark cage like livestock somewhere across the world._

_Of crying to his parents as Freakshow had tugged him away, begged them for help, and apologizing in desperate despair as the caravan moved away from the old workshop. Dad had had his face buried in one hand, and his mother..._

_Mother had..._

_He faintly heard screams from where he sat-or lay-in the darkness. They rushed at him in an intangible mess, making him writhe as he continued to sink, fighting blindly at the sounds._

_Silence. Blissful, deafening silence. Then, came the sheer, raw rush of horror._

_There was blistering, breathtaking pain, which raced up his spine, and made his vision go white from the resulting pangs._

_Was he floating? He couldn't see his own hands. He couldn't even tell if he were right-side up or not._

_Where was he?_

_Who was he?_

_Crying out in misery, Danny flailed, flailing like a trapped cat once he felt something wrap around his midsection, and squeeze tightly. Was Freakshow drugging him-leaving him tied up with spectral bonds in the storage unit again? The Ringmaster had done that once before for six hours-left him alone in the dark, with rats scuttling around in the hay about him from the rafters of the old barn. The boy shouted in fright, and clawed at the bonds, which loosened for perhaps a second, but then doubled their hold-to an almost strangulatory degree. He felt his lungs burn, and the constricts lightened at once. There was a slight pressure on his head, and the bonds around his waist tugged at him again, this time, drawing him onto a solid surface, away from the unseen devils that could clearly see him all too well._

_Something cool draped itself across his burning forehead, and when he tried to fling it off, something ensnared his hands, too, and slowly dragged them to rest them against a solid, warm surface._

_He could feel a heartbeat-maybe that was his own pulse in his hands?_

_But the warm and almost welcoming surface he lay on against quickly turned ice-cold, and he shuddered, doubling his efforts to move away. But his restraints seemed more impassable then ever._

_Something pressed lightly against his stomach, and Danny froze as a momentary electric jolt brushed against the edges of his consciousness._

_But then, something warm began to trickle into his system-warm, insistent, and sweet, like an embrace you don't really want to accept, but need._

_Burning discomfort slowly began to trickle away from his cold, cold body, and something smoothed against his hair, and pressed itself against the back of his head, applying a comforting sense of pressure. In spite of his initial distrust, Danny found himself clinging to the-bonds? Arms?-still wrapped around him, for all his money's worth._

_While the fire in his limbs was slowly being drained away, something heavy was trickling into his consciousness, casting an exhausting haze over his frayed nerves. For awhile, he fought against it, but the pulsing...whatever it was that had by now moved to his chest was persistent, and Danny's eyes were about ready to roll back._

_He felt something distant at his mind-feelings that weren't his own: Anxiety, some relief, and an overwhelming sense of tenderness that would have made the teen want to weep, if it weren't accompanied by something else:_

_Desire. He felt a ravenous, unsatiable urge that was blazing his senses even from a distance. It was too intwined with the gentler, more compassionate feeling to show its true form, and become what it really was; violent, obsessively lustful, and ravenously greedy._

_It made him shiver, wondering what could ever inspire such weird feelings into him-over absolutely nothing at all. Sure, the feelings felt detached-not quite his own-but he could feel it pulsating into his chest cavity, like wormwood alongside the sweet lullaby still lulling him into deeper slumber._

_He felt himself sinking into a shadow, or into something soft. Maybe both. The bonds around his body became warm again, though the pulsation stayed, and the more malevolent energy faded somewhat. Something warm brushed across his face, down to his lips._

_At the sheer gentleness of it all, he might have wept. But his exhaustion and the insisting charge at his heart sent him off to sleep, cradled sweetly in shadow, by the night's watchful vigilance._

~0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-~

When he woke, the sun was streaming on his eyelids, and it was starting to get annoying.

The teen frowned, and shifted lightly, faintly wondering why in the world he was sleeping sitting up. Normally, the bars poked at his back when he leaned against them, but they weren't a fraction as hard as they normally were. He supposed he were still numb with grogginess, which he was perfectly fine with. Soon enough, Lydia would come to shake him awake, and he'd have to endure a hasty rub on of stinging peroxide and lotion before being bandaged up, given his normal grits-before being directed back to the ring.

He shifted, wondering why in the world it was so warm on an Autumn morning. He supposed someone must have left his caravan in the Sunlight-it was filling his raw and empty insides quite comfortably. Still luxuriating in the sensation, Danny shifted again, surprised that the floor felt so comfortable. His hand skimmed across a plush, velvety sur...

His mind abruptly went blank with confusion, and he found himself just a bit more awake.

...?

His fingers continued to glide on the surface that he was perched on, which continued on and on-much larger then the width he was accustomed to in his quarters. It was warm, and soft to the touch-so unlike the hardwood floor, towels, and woodshavings that occasionally gave him bedsores.

Danny's heart nearly stopped in midbeat, and his breath caught in his chest. His eyes burst open, and what he saw made his heart start pounding once again, like a frantic hummingbird trapped behind his ribcage.

He was in the backseat of a very, very fine car, with an extensive velvet loveseat that served more as a couch around the entire gleaming, sophisticatedly posh vehicle. There was an elaborate minibar tucked around the seats, and the windows shone like a glass candelabra he'd once seen in a movie a few years ago. A blue blanket was draped around poor scratched limbs, which were stretched comfortably across the seats, with his head perched on a small travel pillow.

For a moment, Danny simply sat there, gazing at his surroundings, the world spinning wildly in an uncomprehensible blur of color. Nearly sick from nerves and giddiness, he immediately seized the golden handle of the nearby door-which opened obediently, much to his relief. While he got the feeling that the limousine doors weren't spectral proof, what use was leaving one cage for another-albeit more tasteful-one?

He stumbled to the ground, flinching as some minor injuries on his back stung in retaliation, but the pain was nothing compared to the exhiliration he now felt, in this strange clearing, next to the vacant limo.

Cool, fresh green stalks under his hands. He could hear trees rustling about him. And...his spectral chains...

He immediately checked his ankle, and nearly fainted again from relief; no, the shackle was gone. His ankle was heavily bandaged, but who in the world cared about that? There were no crowds, no jeers, no Circus of dark dreams, or whatever the heck Freakshow had called Gothica to surround him.

Danny slowly raised his eyes to the overflowing blue sky above him, heart now pattering like a hurried butterfly's wings. He would have flopped onto the grass if not for the soft pain still on his back warning him.

Speaking of which...

Momentairly distracted from the euphoria still pulsating through every nerve in his body, Danny curiously peered down at his previously bare chest-which was now carefully bound in white bandages.

His fingertips brushed against his cheek, forehead, and chin, finding a few more bandaids, and a coldpack strapped to his shoulders that he hadn't noticed before. Luckily he healed so quickly-elsewise, if he'd still been in the same condition he'd been last night when Vlad had...

"Vlad."

Danny jolted slightly, mouth falling open into a large O, before immediately rechecking his wrists and ankles, heartrate picking up once again upon marveling at the sight of his own bare flesh.

Before the dark had painted over most of the few painful delusions he could remember from...a few hours ago? A day? A week?-he could recall cold. Then light across the sky, and something raising his hand, and pressing something on it. Then-

'Vladimir Plasmius, at your service.'

Danny closed his eyes, forcing himself to ignore his excitement for a little while longer. He glanced uncertainly at the luxury vehicle behind him, recalling the same one that had flickered through his dreams with the red eyes.

Okay, so maybe his mind had gotten a little creative with the details-but Vlad had indeed been real. He'd saved him-one way or another, and freed him of his leash to Freakshow.

'I could kiss him,'

he thought fervently, watching a pair of nearby sparrows flutter off onto a gale.

But he brushed the awkward thought away, and stood again, with some effort. With a flash of light bursting to life at his waist, Phantom overtook Fenton, and Danny soared merrily into the air, nerves twitching with energy.

While he was desperate to leave, desperate to rejoin the sky and spin enormous whirls and spirals until he got sick, some nagging sensation still kept him tied to the ground:

Where WAS his rescuer, anyway? The seats beside him had been empty-and he had heard nothing from the driver's seat.

"Crap," the boy murmured, staring longingly at the black road unwinding before him, still beckoning.

Did...Mr. Plasmius or whoever the heck he was simply abandon him out here? With his own vehicle? Danny felt a light sinking in his stomach, which he irritably pushed away.

'Fenton, this is your freedom we're talking about here! What you waited for...for...'

He'd scratched the number of days on his floor; but he had long since lost count.

'Maybe the eccentric old weirdo left you alone out here-maybe not. But he's still an obsessive, creepy as heck old man who probably wants to keep you in his back closet or something. If he knew enough on how to get SpectralNeuralizers off...'

Danny shivered, and fluttered a little higher into the air, wringing his gloved hands.

What if the man were no better then his own parents? What if his 'fascination' with an actual human/ghost hybrid existing amounted to his immediate dissection?

What if he tried to send Danny back home? Or to some strange foster home in some city outskirts in the middle of nowhere? A juvenile detention center? The G.I.W?

Danny immediately shot twenty feet into the air like a bullet, heart beginning to pound with something other then rapture now. But a weary smirk graced his features.

"Yeah, well, I'll take my chances with a cardboard box," the boy murmured to himself, eyes flashing at the thought of an institution. Although he could easily escape from places like some stupid, do-good 'home for lost and exploited boys'-the Guys in White were an entirely different story.

It'd be another circus-except this one would have a bonus: painful experiments. Lots and lots of painful experiments.

And what was the use of risking another cage, in any case?

But Danny still hovered over the shiny black car, staring into its shiny, tinted windows. No one. Ready to scream at himself, the emaciated half-ghost buried his face in his hands.

"I'm such an idiot..."

He needed to flee; get out of here as soon as he possibly could. The sky was open before him-how he ended up, whether it was lost, or dead in a matter of days-it didn't matter. He wanted to die free, darn it! And he could at the very least validate his strange new freedom by getting away from here, maybe find a job somewhere...anywhere...

He rose a few more inches in the air, stopped, and then cursed again.

The man who had arrived at his cage just last night had been an unlikely miracle. Something akin to someone he'd wished existed so desperately, and was forced to reconcile himself with the idea that he never would, or could exist. Like Santa Claus.

Danny's eye's flickered in sadness.

And he'd been so kind...no one had talked to him in that way for years. Freakshow had, of course, the first time he'd electrocuted him, and had-

As if shocked by a live wire, Danny shuddered, fear rippling down his spine.

What was he doing?

Was he _insane?_

He had to get out of here! Now!

With a sharp gasp, Danny hurled himself into the air, forcing himself to drop altitude as he began to grow slightly lightheaded. Okay. Maybe he still wasn't doing that great after not eating for awhile, but he'd eaten almost an entire peach last night. He'd be okay.

The car grew to the size of a matchbox below him, and the teen stared at it in interest before fluttering away, admiring the emerald grass that partly carpeted the abandoned, lonely road ahead.

Where was he?

More importantly, who cared?

With a whoop, he sped onwards, twirling spirals and daredevil zigzags in the air, shoving his arms behind him as the sun made him glisten like a 77 carot diamond, sending fractions of light twinkling below him as he zipped ahead of the curve, swimming on a breeze.

He laughed as he hadn't in years, eyes tearing from both the speed of his flight and reckless adrenaline. Glancing down at the Earth as he hadn't for three years, he felt the desire to ascend, and immediately gave into it.

Higher then Phantasma had ever soared, Danny felt the sun beating down on his injuries, but didn't care-the world was open and sweet before him, and he intended to enjoy every microsecond of it. He rose, higher and higher into the air, still laughing.

A flock of geese honked in bewildered indignantion as he passed their flock, going higher and higher...

The signs below directing traffic were all but invisible now. He could see tiny crops and farmlife, along with the rare and occasional house huddled inside a den of trees that resembled broccoli shoots. Speeding over the patches of land, Danny admired the irregular patterns people had carved into property-the strange dots below him that had to be birds who couldn't fly quite this high...

He was dizzy again, but from overwhelming relief. Ignoring the dull throbs in his head and his aching stomach, he continued on, keeping his eyes open for a city or a town somewhere in the wilderness. Surely these hills simply wouldn't carry on into the desert...

His heart was still thudding, but perhaps just a bit too loudly, and Danny rose just a bit higher, wondering why the world kept trembling below him, and why he couldn't seem to fly in a straight line.

It wasn't very long before shining blue eyes began to grow a little hazy. He forced himself to drop again, but although he was still high on bliss, it didn't counter the sharp pangs now rushing through the base of his skull.

The wind that kept rufling through his silver hair was rushing in his ears, not helping his diziness. How many years had it been since he'd flown quite so high, he didn't know.

The back of his throat was beginning to burn, alongside his skin. Funny, he'd never felt quite so...quite so_ lethargic _in his ghostly form as he did in his human. But now, he felt wearier then he did in both.

Still forcing himself to gain a little distance, he fluttered on, smiling at the world below him, face paling in the spectral equivalent of a flush.

And then, he found himself flying fast once again-much, much faster then he'd ascended before, which was truly saying something, as he'd shot like a star.

Except this time, he had no control of his speed, or his direction.

Because he was plummeting straight towards the ground.

He didn't even have time to scream. For a moment, the dazed halfa simply stared at his boots, as he did every single time he was forced to fall through the air at Circus Gothica. But panic and fear had long since left him doing this act-was this the reason why he felt no fear?

But soon, to his horror, his silver boots turned to bare, bandaged feet.

And his limbs flailing about him were certainly _not _spectral, nor did they belong to Phantasma.

He was human. Human, falling fast, and about to die seconds after freedom.

With a shout of desperation, Danny reached for his ghost form with all of his might, but to no avail. Wispy sparks appeared at his waist, but he couldn't force his luminous rings to transform him...

The cerulean sky was spinning before him. And it would be the last thing he would ever see.

Danny kept reaching for his ghost form, though he knew it was in vain. Bracing himself for the crash, he closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as a single tear shot from them into the air like a pearl.

This was it! He only had a matter of seconds!

Three...

He knew the trees were becoming much, much larger now.

Two...

Would it hurt? His neck would probably shatter upon impact, and he'd be dead before his entire body could hit the ground.

But it was still a cleaner departure then the one he knew he would have received at Gothica-then the end he'd nearly created for himself with his escape into darkness.

His only regret was that he could never thank the man who'd saved him. He couldn't even stay long enough to say goodbye.

One-!

Danny gasped as a whirlwind of stars burst in front of his eyes; his chest burned, his backed burned, his lungs burned-everything burned. He wasn't expecting it to be quite _that abrupt_-

He could feel his legs falling back towards the ground-but found nothing. Just empty space.

Hardly daring to believe it, Danny's eyes opened.

There was the ground, still miles and miles away below him. His feet dangled below it all, something black and white bound tightly around his midriff-

Alabaster with shock, Danny slowly turned around, only to find himself in the arms of a nightmare. The red-eyed wraith that had briefly haunted his dreams was glowering at him, fangs set into a snarl that was quivering, with every syllable, in anger. Danny flinched away from the pallow monster, shaking when it only bent closer, seizing his chin so that the hybrid had no other choice then to look directly into his cold, cold eyes. It wasn't a task he could do unflinchingly.

He didn't look a thing like one of Freakshow's performers. White cape fluttering in the air, cruelty and rage outlined in the aura that was pulsating through Danny's own heart-

He was so, so much scarier.

The ghost unwound an arm around Danny, making the boy seize the other in panic, thinking he might drop him. But the specter only laughed-a horrible, grating sound, that made the teen want to clasp his hands over his ears.

"Don't worry."

It was the same voice he'd heard outside of the circus-the one that had told him to wait, and had introduced himself as Vladimir Plasmius in his dreams.

He lightly tucked a hand inside of his shirt pocket, and withdrew a small handkerchief. Danny stared at it uncomprehendingly before his captor's hand shot forward, and plastered it over his face. A sharp smell immediately prevaded his senses, and the air immediately began melting into an uncomprehensible blur.

'Chloroform!'

Useless struggling dying down, he still winced as the ghost harshly drew him up by the collar, casting him a bored, derisive look.

"As if I'd let you go quite so easily. You stupid, stupid boy."

Colors were bubbling in and out of Danny's vision, but the scarlet eyes were always prevalent through the haze. The specter drew the paralyzed boy by the ear, and clutched at him painfully before whispering,

"Best of luck. If you can't succeed where _he_ and s_he_ failed, then the two of you are lost."

Head falling backwards, Danny stared longingly at the sky above them as his eyes started flickering. But a pair of lips was still whispering; still brushing against the soft skin of his cartilage:

"Either way, you'll be mine. Just be aware that I am not the patient sort, dear boy, and if his heart gets in the way, he's just a momentary roadblock-so easily, easily taken care of. Keep that in mind..."

He said something Danny could not hear. Again, there was the cold pulsation at Danny's heart, and again, it made him shudder with fear.

And, for the third time in hours, the halfa fainted, hearing laughter ring out in his ears, which so reminded him of Freakshow's insane, maniacal giggle...

AhaHaHAhAHAHahahAhAHa...

"!"

Danny's scream was so loud that the boy immediately woke himself, writhing under the mess of the comforting blankets still covering him. But still in a frenzy, Danny threw them, still seeing a pair of red eyes flashing before his eyes, and feeling manacles placed over his wrists, his arms, his legs...

Tangled in the blankets, Danny blindly kicked out when a pair of hands seized him by the face. But still seeing his captor's face, hearing that awful laughter, and the memory of being handled like a marionette...

"N-No," Danny gasped, still pushing away at the unseen force still grappling with him. He tried to clock whomever it was, but his swinging hand was abruptly captured.

"Daniel! Daniel, please calm down! It's me!"

That name again. It certainly got Danny's attention-he whipped his head around, still suppressing a whimper, when the haze slowly began to dilute. He became increasingly aware of a pair of warm hands still cupping his face, making him look at someone.

But the voice wasn't sadistic and mocking. It too, was familiar...

Blinking, Danny found himself sitting precisely where he'd started in his dream-what HAD to have been a dream, but couldn't have been...

Could it?

Shaking, Danny stared at the dark leather padding about himself, the pillows, the extensive minibar that he'd seen just a little while ago...

Had he?

His breathing picked up, and the warm hands at his face moved to his shoulders.

"Daniel. Daniel, do you have asthma? Calm down. Deep breaths. Daniel, you're hyperventilating."

A pair of arms intwined themselves cautiously around his stomach, and Danny cringed in fear-but no. They were dark sleeves-with fine, golden cufflinks. Still breathing heavily, Danny slowly looked up into a pair of indigo eyes staring down at him, fear and confusion etched into every corner of his savior's face.

Trembling, Danny opened his mouth, closed it, and began looking around. The seats were the same. The handles. The glasses. The little refrigerator. The stereo system-or at least he thought it was one-rigged up. The only thing that had changed was that it was now raining outside again; absolutely pouring down the windows.

And, the vehicle was moving, rumbling down the highway.

The man gently pushed a cold glass into Danny's hands; he took a swig, not caring what it was. It burned his throat a little bit and made him shudder, but it sent a warm, fluttering sensation throughout his body. He took another sip, and the arms around him loosened slightly, but he thought he heard the silver-haired man sigh in relief.

"That's better. Goodness, Daniel, you gave me a fright. But I'm glad you're awake-I was worrying that we were going to going to have to stop at the hospital on the way home. No one from my medical team is available quite so close by-though they certainly ought to be. I'm paying them enough," the man grumbled, in an afterthought.

Danny sent the man a suspicious glare, and phased through his touch, not bringing himself to look at him once again.

"...you're...you're Vlad...Vlad Plasmius, right?"

It had been the wrong thing to say; Vlad immediately went rigid, and seized Danny by the shoulders once more, voice tight.

"Where...how...what did you say? _Who told you?"_

Vlad's hold became painful.

"Who told you?"

Danny immediately phased away again, eyes enormous, wondering if it were time to book. Asap.

"You did! Last night! You...you said your name was Vlad...and then, later on..."

The tension in the middle-aged man's brow slowly washed away, and the burning, midnight eyes softened somewhat. Exhaling, the man buried his face in one hand.

"...that's true. Daniel, I implore you to forgive my rudeness-you simply startled me. But it appears you're under a misapprehension. My last name is Masters, dear boy-certainly not Plasmius. Perhaps you've heard of me?" the man asked, turning to look at the teenager still staring distrustfully in his direction. "I own the DALV corporation..."

Danny paused, then slowly shook his head no.

"...sorry. I don't...I don't know what that is. I've just been...out of contact for awhile, is all."

He shrugged, and chose to take another drink of the plum-colored contents of his glass.

Vlad only gazed at him, which was a little more then nervewracking. Disbelief, satisfaction, and pity had all marched through his eyes, which Danny didn't like-the last the least of all. Vlad inched closer to him, but kept a careful distance this time.

"My dear boy."

His voice was now deathly quiet. Danny found his eyes straying over to the Aristocrat, whose hands were now turning starkly white from how tightly they were being clutched.

"Daniel...I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea...but you'll never have to step a foot on Gothica's premises ever again, nor will you be harangued by that insufferable fool ever again. I've assured it. No one will dare to hurt you like that _ever_ again."

Uncomfortable, and now red in the face, Danny glanced away towards the windows, where he could vaguely make out a few city towers in the blurry distance.

"I...um...ah...that's...good," he said awkwardly, throwing Vlad an uncertain attempt at a smile.

And then, it hit him. Pinching himself to affirm that he was not indeed dreaming once again, before his senses could catch up with his head, he'd thrown himself over the car, arms tightly wound around Vlad. The man jolted in considerable surprise, but Danny merely held on, eyes burning.

"Thank you."

His voice was cracked with tears, and he could have slapped himself, but the words wouldn't stop.

"I...I couldn't...I never..."

The tears were falling thick and fast now, and Danny forced another smile on his face to keep himself from breaking down.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I couldn't stand...I _hated_ that place so much. I thought I was going to die in that horrible box. I'm-"

A pair of arms had uncertainly brushed against the shaking boy's shoulders, bringing the teen close in for an embrace. Vlad had simply gazed down his back, fingertips reaching to brush back the boy's hair-

But then, upon touching the halfa, his face went white, and a sickened look appeared over his eyes. Immediately, he pushed the boy away from himself with the speed one might expect from a man who has just made the mistake of touching some vile, despicable thing.

The expression the boy had on made him feel more than a little guilty. Vlad cleared his throat, and awkwardly patted Danny on the shoulder with two fingers.

"Yes, yes, well...it was nothing on my part. The important thing is that you're safe, and once you're in my castle, I can-"

Danny forced away the hurt on his face, knowing it was futile. Maybe to the man he was just another dirty circus performer-certainly something to be pitied and ostrachized, but never touched. Although he never would have agreed with that thought concept before, Vlad was still his rescuer.

"I-It wasn't nothing! And you've done enough for me already, so if you can just-"

Vlad cast Danny a suspicious glance.

"Just what?"

Staring at the man's almost accusatory face, Danny fumbled, then recovered:

"Just...maybe pull over, let me go. I can fly away regardless, but it'd be easier."

Vlad pulled out a glass from the nearby minibar, and admired its handspun handle, doing his best to appear bored.

"Really?" he asked, words having something growing behind the surface. "And do you have a place to sleep tonight, young man?"

The teen obviously hadn't been expecting these questions. He hesitated, and then simply answered-

"Yes. Well, no, but I'll probably find something somewhere-"

"Hmmmm," Vlad interrupted, his voice beginning to become impatient. "I don't care for the words 'no', 'probably', 'something', or 'somewhere'. Do you even know what state you're in right now, dear boy?"

Danny couldn't answer. Smirking in slight triumph, Vlad gloatingly answered:

"Wisconsin. My home state-and my estate is only an hour or so away. Why not stay with me?"

He leaned towards the boy, smile now gone, dark eyes piercing and hollow stare set on. Danny uncomfortably fidgeted as the man leaned closer and closer to him.

"I-I don't want to be a burden-" Danny stammered, leaning back with a forced smile, glancing at the door behind him. Getting away from a moving vehicle wouldn't be too tricky in his ghost form...

Vlad's gaze did not falter.

"Do you think I don't know what you're thinking of? I won't force you to be here, my boy-but I _want_ you to be here. I want you. As my guest," the man answered hurriedly, before Danny's hands could fly for the door. Vlad took Danny's hand, looking imploring.

"I wouldn't ask you if I thought you were in the slightest. But I've followed you for too long to be denied your company now. You must have so much to say. You haven't been looked at by a doctor in months, now-which is one thing I must insist upon correcting. You're malnourished, I add-and a night or two at my home would at least give you some time to sort out your options, if you indeed have any at this point in time," the man added dryly, raising an eyebrow at Danny's scowl.

Danny bit his lip, and tried to look out at the darkening skyline. But Vlad tugged insistently on his hand, until the exasperated teen turned around from the window.

"Daniel. Don't you believe that if I truly wished to hurt you, I would have done so by now?" he asked quietly.

This was a fair enough point. But Danny shook his head all the same.

"I couldn't. I just...I'm sorry, but you've done too much for me already. This is all I ever could have asked for, so please, I'm sor-"

Vlad rolled his eyes, forcing his temper to stay in check.

"If you will insist to cling to the notion that I've 'done too much for you,'" (Here, his fingers made little quotation marks) "To the point where you can't possibly return the favor, then accepting my hospitality will not make a difference in the slightest. And there will be no need to refuse my own feelings and feel apologetic should you agree to stay with me. I have more then enough rooms, and will see to your comfort. But I think," the man said very seriously, "If you are so intent on paying me back, you will not try to deny me the pleasure of your company. I've been looking for you for some time, now-wanted to hold a conversation about your life. I realize now that that may be the very last thing you wish," he added gently, "But at least give an old fool his satisfaction. I won't send you out alone on such a miserable night-especially friendless, and in such a sorry state. Just spare me the faux soul searching, and agree to come with me."

He took a deep breath, and used a word he was so seldom to utter, dark blue eyes boring holes into the baby blue:

"Please. There's so much I want to ask you. I've waited years to find you."

Danny glanced away once again, biting the inside of his lip. Didn't the guy say that he'd been tracking him for only six months, now?

But in retrospect, he supposed it didn't matter all that much. Unfortunately, Vlad did make a good point, and as much as he didn't want to stay with the executive, he realized he had very little choice. He _was_ starving, and he _was_ exhausted. His rescuer made him feel just a little edgy, and there was no guarantee that the man wouldn't simply turn on him, and hand him over to the authorities.

...but if he'd already gone this far...maybe he really was just a fascinated old coot. _'Okay, Fenton...answer a couple of his dumb questions, thank him again in the morning, be on your way. To freedom.'_

That sounded reassuring. Danny closed his eyes and mentally deflated, quelling his longing to fly away from the vehicle as soon as possible. In the long run, an evening with the guy might be better for them both.

"...alright..." Danny said hesitantly, not missing the pleased, cat-like grin that unfurled on Vlad's face, or how satisfaction was practically radiating off his persona. He'd been expecting this victory, alright.

But the teen simply flushed with annoyance, and looked away once again. He hoped it wouldn't be raining TOO hard in the morning-he was leaving regardless of the weather.

"Just for the evening. Then, I really have to get going. Okay?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Vlad was still smiling with pleasure. He scooted away a few inches, feeling ashamed of himself.

They rode in silence for awhile. Finally, Danny, unable to take the awkwardness anymore, finally blurted out his strange dreams to his new benefactor, including the one where he'd simply woken up alone in the limousine, and had flown away...

"...and after that ghost came for me, I don't really remember much," he admitted, brow furrowing as he tried not to recall the filthy wraith's wicked smile. "Are you sure that didn't...really happen? I mean, everything was the same as it is _here_." He gestured blindly around the car. "I don't understand-I've heard that voice somewhere before, and when I woke up again, nothing changed except the weather. And you. You were here when I awoke."

Vlad had been stirring the contents of his tea with a small silver spoon, his expression troubled.

"Dear boy, after I unloaded you from the caravan and helped take off that shackle, you were very feverish. I do believe you might have opened your eyes occasionally during the night...but I stayed by your side for the majority of our trip. You must have been having some terrible nightmares-you were thrashing and groaning in your sleep, mumbling."

Vlad lowered his teacup to his saucer, where it made a soft, but deafening _chink. _Concern returned to his voice:

"At one point, you seemed to be laughing-then, you started crying out, and a few moments later, you woke. And here we are now," Vlad said blandly, gesturing carelessly at the grandeur surrounding them. "When your eyes did open, you wouldn't respond to anything I was saying-though you did, ah..."

Vlad trailed off, and Danny shot him a suspicious look.

"What? What did I do?"

Vlad simply held up a hand, and shook his head.

"Nothing. You were still simply very hot, dear boy-I lay an icepack on your forehead for awhile-that seemed to calm you down a bit. Just this morning, I think your fever broke, but you still slept for some time. I can't imagine you got much sleep in that disgusting cage of yours."

Danny said nothing. The fact that a 'disgusting cage' had been his home for three years made him seem less human. And he was going to live among humans again, as he hadn't for months.

He managed a dry, quiet snort, and folded his hands. Vlad immediately spoke up again, looking uneasy:

"Yes, well, some more rest would do you quite well. And my private team of professional doctors would very much like to exami-_Daniel, no_, they're human physicians!" Vlad said sharply, when transformation rings appeared at the boy's waist. "Gracious, child, they have no intention of hurting you...can't you believe me?"

Covering his hand with a napkin, he forced himself to shake Danny's shoulder once again, trying to loosen the statue's posture. Then, Vlad's eyes trailed to Danny's neck and back once again, and sadness reappeared in his eyes.

"No. I don't suppose you can," he said quietly, withdrawing his touch.

The rain continued to patter down. And Danny looked at it while they began driving down a well-kept, deserted wood. While he knew he couldn't leave the man without singular regret, somehow, he got the sensation that that was what he would be feeling soon, anyway.

But not so much so when the car began to zoom up the expansive, spiraling drive.

Danny had been dozing in and out, reluctant to sleep-but lights were flashing over his eyelids, and he opened them sleepily. What he saw wokened him almost immediately; his mouth dropped open, and he practically flew to the window in awe. Vlad sat behind him, pretending not to notice.

It was a castle. Vlad hadn't been lying. This..._house_...if indeed that was what it was-kicked that mansion belonging to that bald guy from _Annie_'s behind. It was magnificient, enormous, and towering, with faded bricks that somehow still seemed to retain a sense of gold splendor-like galleons lost at sea for thousands of years. Every window was elegantly handcrafted into intricate patterns...and he guessed that the occasional 'M' Crest on the towers and archways had cost a little more then a small fortune.

There was an enormous fountain bubbling in the courtyard, which looked like one he'd seen out a magazine that he'd fished from a wastebasket one day out of sheer boredom. There were pennants at the towers-all in green and gold, for whatever reason-fluttering in the gales, soaking wet, still magnificent. He could see an enormous chandlier with tear-shaped diamonds twinkling from a nearby window-and another from the second floor.

There was a hedgemaze, and a number of smaller buildings near the castle, all tastefully kept and well-polished. He could see a number of statues peeking out from inside the maze, with marble-tipped wings flowing out from what had to be some enormous, angelic maiden. He saw a pair of enormous wings flash by as the car put on speed-he turned to look at the figure, but the car hurried them away before he could get a proper look at the strange, marble persona hidden away very tastefully arranged rose bushes carved into elaborate shapes.

They passed through an elegant gold gate-which, after a foolish moment, Danny realized did _not_ belong to heaven-and marked with the initials 'V.M.'

Just who was this guy, anyway?

Vlad cleared his throat as they pulled up into a handsome garage filled with a number of vehicles, some old-fashioned, some absurdly futuristic, and all ridiculously expensive and luxuriously well-kept.

"I have a number of guest rooms waiting at your disposal. I realize it may be a little different then what you're used to-I, um, well-I still have my staff waiting at your disposal," the billionaire added quickly, as though he'd said something he wished he hadn't.

Danny only shook his head dumbly, not even knowing what it was he objected to.

"It's beautiful," he breathed, missing Vlad's pleased smile.

Once the car had stopped, the chauffeur had bustled out, and immediately opened the door for the teen before he could even reach for the handle. Blushing, extremely self-conscious of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of bloody, dirty jeans and several bandages, Danny clambored out, face flaming as he gave a shy mumble of thanks to the driver, who only nodded in response.

Vlad lazily slinked out behind him, returned a faint nod to his servant, and then nodded towards the door, avoiding touching the boy at all costs.

"Well, come along, then."

Danny hesitated. Vlad simply sighed, took him by the shoulder, and steered the startled boy inside.

1.) This guy has a sick mind, considering he has an entire wardrobe in my size.

2.) This guy has way too much time on his hands.

3.) This guy knew I'd be here.

4.) This guy has more money then he knows what to do with.

5.) This guy is a creeper.

6.) All of the above.

Gaping, Danny slowly shook his head in awe as he slowly moved through the clothing racks, jaw dropping when he came to a tall, neatly revolving shoe rack...with six black pairs of converse on one side, all in consecutive (And he guessed designer) origins.

The majority of the shoes were gleaming 'dress' ones-ones that hinted foreign origins, and black tie events. Danny nervously poked at one, before withdrawing his hand hastily, looking about himself, as though expecting a sales' clerk to come and start shouting at him.

Even in his old life, he'd only ever seen new shoes when the new school semester was poised to begin-sometimes, not even then. His parents often had to scrape funds to feed the four of them, considering they only rarely got called on for spectral elimination, and didn't receive much funding from the government.

Again, the thought of his family gave him a pang. Was that why his parents had done what they'd done? To have more money-more utilities to send his elder sister to university?

Danny let out a hollow laugh, wondering what the Fentons would think of his 'new threads,' as it were. Seconds later, he felt bile rushing behind his throat, making him feel sick.

Did it really matter, anymore? Besides, he certainly wasn't going to get used to this. Freedom was enough, there was no point in getting greedy.

"Geez, overkill, much?" Danny murmured, dazedly opening a door he thought would lead him out. But no-he simply walked in on yet another room, filled with rack upon rack of clothing. Each color had its own section...which, individually, were spilling at the edges. Dumbfounded, Danny opened yet another door...only to find another, albeit smaller, chamber.

Getting lost in your own walk-in closet was just a little sad.

At last getting impatient, he phased through the walls, back to his suite, back to what had to be a triple King sized four-poster bed. Careful not to upset his newly rebandaged wounds, Danny slowly lay down on the dark green covering with gold and silver embrodiery, hugging a pillow to his chest.

This was real.

That, or he'd finally died, and was going to stumble through 'dream' after 'dream' in this unending version of hell.

Danny plopped his head on the bed, staring at the ornate, albeit unnecessary opal chandelier glittering above him.

...but he supposed if he were stuck in this particular plane, it was not at all a bad place to be.

Vlad had directed the stunned boy to this tower room-left a smiling maid outside of the door (Something he was a little more then uncomfortable about), and had gently lead him to the bed, before disappearing into the nearby bathroom.

Danny had been again ready to bolt, but when Vlad returned, he'd only been holding a first aid kit in one hand, and had been carrying a bucketful of ice water in the other. He'd asked Danny if he could again take a look at his back. Although the teen was more then unwilling, whatever the man had put on his back when he'd been knocked out had already dulled the painful throbbing to a mild, occasional sting. It was much more effective then Lydia's lotions, which, while effective, did nothing to seal up the welts.

The man had put on a pair of latex gloves, and had avoided touching the teen more then absolutely necessary. He still remembered how Vlad had flinched away from him in the car when he tried to hug him-did he still think him dirty, unsanitary?

Although he knew he shouldn't really care less, it made Danny feel just a bit sad. Had Vlad been a little more receptive, fear and doubt would be so, so much easier to cast out the window. But he supposed the same went for him: he'd trembled so much when Vlad had rubbed the dishcloth down the pink gashes on his back. He'd thought he'd heard the man swear a few times while bandaging it, though the eccentric billionaire seemed far too debonair for that.

He'd been so gentle.

Danny smiled absentmindedly, burying his face in the pillows, wanting to jump up and down the bed and whoop until his lungs burst out, but was too tired; too content. He'd have to leave this all soon enough, of course-after Vlad's physicians did an evaluation on his overall physical state, maybe breakfast-and then, off to find himself a new home.

He hadn't spoken to his friends in years. Would they remember him? Had they looked for him?

Danny's heart sank as he crawled under the soft, soft comforters, marveling at the heaviness and coolness of the plush down pillows. No. He would never-could never-go back to Amity Park. If he ever saw his parents for real once again...

...his fists shook, and his nails dug into his palms.

Who would kill the other first?

The thought left him disgusted, and he closed his eyes. No. He could never. There was a reason. Had to be. He'd just been a bad son, a liar-a terrible person. He couldn't let Vlad find out that his parents had all but sold him.

...if he didn't already. How HAD the man found out his real name, anyway?

Danny sat up, and rubbed at his temples, starting at a soft knock at the door.

"Daniel? Dinner will be ready in ten...would you care to take supper in your room, or will you join me in the dining hall?"

The hybrid drew his blankets up to his chest, blinking.

"Um...I'll...I'll see you in the dining hall. Thank you. Very much," he added.

A pause.

"Think nothing of it. Please change into whatever you'd like, my boy-I'll see you in a few minutes. Jane will escort you to the hall in a few minutes."

And then, in a few sweeping footsteps, Vlad was gone, before Danny could even open his mouth with a question.

It'd been difficult knowing what to wear. He'd never been good at this sort of thing, but luckily, it all fit.

Danny looked over the room, where three pale, olive-skinned boys were staring at him, with spiky black hair, a long black T-shirt with a blue oval at the front, and dark blue jeans. He jumped, and was about to demand to know what the boys were doing-only to watch them copy him.

Oh. It was just a wall-length, three-way mirror. Feeling foolish, he curiously headed towards it, watching the mirroid Dannys do the same.

He smiled. The action felt tricky, but it looked natural enough. There were dark ovals underneath his eyes that made him look much older then he actually was. He supposed the eye makeup he'd had to wear for awhile now had made him look younger-like he was fourteen again.

Three years of his life: Gone. But now, he had the rest of it to look forward to. Though he wasn't sure what would be waiting for him: He had no family, nor a job, or a school to go to. He hadn't opened a text book since Freakshow had first enslaved him. Of course, he still knew how to read, but what else did he know? He could only vaguely remember a few mathematical skills that he'd learned his Freshman year. Some science. Lots of astronomy. Not much else.

Was he stupid? He supposed he had to be. Shoulders dropping, Danny pushed aside his negative feelings, and firmly reminded himself to enjoy himself tonight.

After all, it was only for tonight.

The maid waiting for him was soft spoken and quite polite-he'd asked her three or four times to stop addressing him as 'Master Daniel,' but she wouldn't desist. She lead him past tasteful parlor past long corridors, many of which had portraits of the owner beaming down his slightly maniacal smile. It made the teen want to laugh, but he held it in.

Vlad had been sitting expectantly at the end of a large table once they'd entered. Danny slowly entered the pavilion, feeling shy again as the maid bowed at the doorway, and hurried off.

"Daniel! You look..."

Vlad eyed the teenager's petite form, something glinting in his eyes for a fraction of a second, though that might have been the teen's imagination. But the next second, it was gone, and the man was leaning forwards eagerly in his seat, hands enfolded comfortably.

"You look very smart. I'm pleased-though I'm sure you must be hungry."

Treacherous it was, Danny's stomach rumbled, and the boy clasped it, scowling. The man simply laughed.

"Yes, well, I did order my chefs to make something a little hearty tonight. Please, won't you sit down? I'll ring for the servants."

It was, all in all, one of the strangest evenings Danny had had not in three years, but in his entire life. Considering the embarassing amount of food heaped onto his plate, Danny had to wonder if Vlad were like the witch in _Hansel and Gretel_, fattening him up to devour him in the morning.

The meal was Italian-his favorite-though he'd wondered whether or not that had been coincidence.

First had come the _antipasto*_, which left Danny more comfortably full then he'd been since that Autumn evening with the apples. But then had come the _primo*_ soup, the _secondo*_, and then the contorno, which was an huge mountain of angel hair spaghetti covered in vodka sauce, sauteed vegetables, and probably enough garlic to choke a horse. But Vlad's eyes were on him during the meal, and he continued lowering his knife and fork to anxiously ask Danny how the food was.

Of course, it tasted impeccably delicious, and Danny had wolfed down the first few courses in a matter of seconds. But his shriveled stomach could not hold very much, and upon remembering that Vlad was indeed in the room, went red, and slowed his bites down considerably. But the man was still watching him with a small smile, and he'd looked more satisfied when Danny was all but choking his food down.

"Daniel, are you wouldn't care for a second portion?"

Danny grinned; it again, felt odd, but he only shook his head from the other end of the dining room table, watching the wax in the glittering candelabras sink lower and lower.

"No thank you, Mr. Masters. I'm really full."

Vlad raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm? Well, I certainly think another bowl of soup would do you quite nicely-you look very peaky. Though in hindsight, it's only peasant filling...I'd rather you have another bowl of pa-"

Danny shook his head again very quickly, and the two laughed. Vlad reached for his wine glass, and toasted it, before taking a sip, and lowering his cutlery once more.

"Daniel, did they feed you often?"

For a moment, Danny didn't say anything.

"Sometimes. Well, yeah, most times."

Vlad's face remained impassive, though his eyes were dulling. The air had gotten considerably cooler. Danny wished he'd remembered to grab a jacket.

"Really?" Vlad asked cordially, though his voice seemed a little less pleasant then before. "And were you always kept in...the quarters I found you in?"

Danny just nodded, keen to keep the man from getting angry. The last thing he needed was for Vlad to go after Freakshow again-the man was pathetic, weak even-but he had a mass number of ghosts at his command. Hurting the billionaire could be all too easy.

"Y-Yeah. I was in there for...going on three years, now. In the Winter, I was usually kept in with Night Mare in the spectral stables. If Freakshow were especially angry, sometimes, I was-"

But Danny paled, and stopped. Vlad stared at him intently.

"You were?" He urged, gesturing for the boy to go on.

Danny suddenly took an interest in his water glass, turning over the fine crystal in his hands.

"I...I dunno. It varied. Usually, I was just locked in my caravan, though that was what essentially happened after every show, unless I was stationed to do more training, or to help the crew take down the tent, or to clean up after the animals." Danny made a face, suddenly put off of the large pile of pasta he'd been unable to finish on his plate. "One time, though, when I _really _screwed up by smacking into one of the performers and sending the bats out onto the audience, I was tied under the Gothica engine for two days."

Vlad's glass tipped over, sending its amber contents flooding over the fine linen tablecloth.

"What?"

Danny shrunk back in his seat, wishing he hadn't said anything.

"Yeah, well, not while the engine was r-running, of course. The whipping was worse, and at least I got a bathroom break once in awhile. It just stunk because my face was in the dirt all day."

This did not have the desired effect of alleviating Vlad's mutinous face. Danny coughed and flushed, stirring his pasta around with his fork.

"Y-Yeah, well, most of the time, it was either the whip or the stables. I actually learned not to mind the stables too much-Night Mare sometimes nipped and was a bit of a jerk, but she wasn't too bad after I gave her a few apples one evening. I earned an entire basin one night-it was really, really great."

Vlad was still gazing at him, which made him feel slightly annoyed. He wasn't Oliver Twist, darn it!

"One other really nice evening I had was when I found a copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ lying around my cage. Some kids came by one day, and one of them th-er, dropped it. I used a stick to pry it nearby-at first, it was really boring, but it got really good later on. I used to keep it hidden in my caravan, so Freakshow wouldn't take it away. I used to read it every chance I got. I actually know most of it by heart, now."

Vlad's stare had grown just a little intense.

"Really? I find that rather hard to believe."

Danny shrugged, and quoted:

"After having passed with tolerable ease through the subterranean passage, which, however, did not admit of their holding themselves erect, the two friends reached the further end of the corridor, into which the abbe's cell opened; from that point the passage became much narrower, and barely permitted one to creep through on hands and knees. The floor of the abbe's cell was paved, and it had been by raising one of the stones in the most obscure corner that Faria had to been able to commence the laborious task of which Dantes had witnessed the completion. As he entered the chamber of-"

Vlad threw his hands into the air, laughing.

"Alright, alright, I believe you. That's incredible, my boy."

But his smile seemed a little creased.

"However, I'd be lying if I didn't say I didn't find it rather tragic, too."

So he found him pathetic. Danny said nothing. Vlad moved on:

"Whatever happened to that book, anyway? I didn't see it in your caravan."

Danny stirred around his spaghetti, overturning a tomato he found.

"Freakshow found it one day. Fed it to Nightmare. Then, I got the whip."

His tone was so bland, manner of fact, that Vlad was silent for a few moments. Then-

"Damn him to hell," he murmured darkly, clutching his glass so tightly the handle began cracking. "I should have made him suffer more."

Danny looked up quickly.

"What was that?"

"Mmm? Oh. _Dolce_* is a _cheesecake l'amour royale_. With a Belgium chocolate liquer pour. I do hope you enjoy it, Daniel."

Luckily, Danny managed to redirect the conversation to Vlad, although the billionaire seemed infinitely more interested in the boy than his own companies. Danny's skepticism grew to astonishment as Vlad described DALV's recent takeover of Microsoft (Subtly renaming it 'MasterSoft.'). But Vlad seemed determined to keep asking him mundane questions-with answers that he'd very nearly forgotten.

His favorite color? He didn't really...have one, per say. Maybe blue. Or red. It varied, he supposed.

Favorite Food? Pretty much anything Italian.

What hobbies he'd enjoyed doing before the circus? He'd been a ghost fighter. After that, he couldn't remember much, other then stars, a band that might have been called Dumpty Humpty, a restaurant, a place in the park he remembered, an old tree out back...

Vlad at least knew enough to stay away from Gothica subjects. But his stream of questions seemed insatiable:

Did Danny have a sweetheart whom he'd left behind: No answer. Vlad wisely moved on.

Did Danny play any sports? He'd never been too graceful on the ground. It seemed as though he'd been created to eventually become a ghost-he was pretty aerodynamic for a ghost his age.

Did he ever own any pets? No. Explosions in the basement: Fine, Having a pet that needed to be houstrained: Absolutely not.

This released another plethora of questions: Why were there explosions? What did his parents do? Where were his parents? Was Danny planning on going back to them? Did he have any siblings? How in the world did he receive his ghost powers? Where did he live before the Circus? How did he wind up there? Was anybody looking for him?

Danny only had to curtly answer the first two questions with one response: His parents were ghost hunters, and they often did experiments in the evenings.

Vlad simply stared at him, uncomprehending-until his eyes slowly widened.

"Oh, Daniel."

Immediately, the man had stood up, and strode to the boy's side-but didn't seem to know what to do afterwards. He'd gruffly clasped Danny's shoulder, released it, and looked away, clearing his throat.

That concluded the Q&A session for the evening.

Vlad had walked him to his room, told him to help himself to any bathroom utilities, or to ring the call button on the panel over his bed if he needed anything. He looked as though he wished to say more, but after a few minutes, simply took Danny by the shoulders again, and looked at him with a strange mixture of pride and...something else just a little unsettling, but unnameable.

"Good night, Daniel. I am so glad that I finally had the pleasure to meet you."

Then at last, Vlad released him, and began walking away. Danny simply stood in the doorway, stunned, before calling out:

"Wait! You never told me how you knew my name! Why did you start following me?"

He ran out into the hallway, just in time to see Vlad heading out of sight, down a flight of steps.

"Why did you-"

But he blinked, and, in another second, the man was gone.

The bath looked like a minature swimming pool-deep enough to do dives in. There were several taps to pull, and the boy found a number of perfumey, bubbly concoctions in the bathroom cabinets.

He'd had to be careful, as to avoid brushing suds against his bandages, but he couldn't suppress a groan of pleasure on settling in the warm water, idly watching bubbles float by in the air.

Normally, he simply had a cold shower after the performances, which felt great, considering how sweaty he normally was. But it was quite chilly in his room, and he felt a slight draft that had the back of his neck prickling.

That, and the idea that something was watching him. Somewhere, somehow.

It just unnettled him how he didn't feel truly alone. In retrospect, it was a thought as soothing as it was frightening.

Wrapping up in a fluffy white towel, cleaner then he'd been in weeks, Danny dazedly stepped out of the steamy bathroom, reaching for the comfortable, baggy pajamas he'd found in his closet.

How he was ever going to thank Vlad for this, he didn't know. The man was a hero. A saint. How happy he was that he hadn't gone through with his plans last night!

Limping slightly, he settled into his large, welcoming bed, tired out. Danny snuggled into the softness of the large pillows, sighing slightly, wishing he could luxuriate in the sensation of being warm and safe.

But sleep came all too quickly, and, in a matter of minutes, the teen had nodded off, breathing soft and untroubled, nerves a little less frazzled. The air outside his balcony was sweet as it fluttered past the white curtains.

Danny wouldn't have been able to remember the last time he'd slept so soundly. Maybe it was just the comforting weight of the quilts; maybe it was going to sleep with a full stomach, outside a circus of dark dreams.

A few birds perched on the balcony twittered away in alarm as a dark shadow stole into the bedroom, standing between the tapestry curtains. It crept forwards silently, large spikes atop its head stretching almost cartoonishly across the floor in shadow. If the figure's pointed feet didn't look like a thief in the night, it would have looked amused.

The shadow paused, and took to the air, rising effortlessly towards the canopy four poster where Danny was tucked in. It hovered over his bed for just a minute, and then, disappeared off the walls entirely.

Another shadow seeped from the floorboards, and a pair of disfigured hands reached out blindly for the boy, somehow managing to pull the sleeping child closer to it. Danny shivered as a hand caressed his cheek, and began smoothing midnight hair. The boy turned his head, but slept on.

Maybe it was the warm bath. Or maybe it was the fact that he was being lovingly fondled by an undead beast who could only truly be described as a monstrosity.

Danny's face drew color slightly as the wraith slowly drew down his shirt, so that it could eagerly assualt the warm flesh it found there. The teen shivered, moaned-but the ministrations did not stop. Danny's neck lolled back slightly as the lips brushed to the milky flesh it found there, brushing past the throat to attack the lips.

Whatever it was that kept Danny soundly in a daze, I'll allow you to draw your own conclusions.

End of Part 2.


	3. Dum Spiro, Spero

_Hallo, again, loves! Very excited for this section...updated a little earlier then normal. So please review? *Eyes water* Please? Pretty please? Some rough times are up ahead, but also some sweet._

_Lately, am getting ready for college...seriously have some nerves under my new current living arrangements, text book purchasing, moving, and whatnot. I have a new Volunteer Position at the Children's Museum, my sis is expecting a baby next month, is moving soon, and I have to finish all my registration paperwork. Just a little stressed-so even a short review is very much appreciated! :) (As my friend Nimrod says, blatant review whoring. Deal. *Blushes*)_

_Yes, this fiction is AU. Forgive me if I didn't tell you so before. And by the way, I've noticed a series of computer glitches with the spacing, so please forgive me for any confusion! _

* * *

><p>The seven hundred thousand dollar statue had its eyes closed in euphoria, and it was pirouetting spirals into the air. Vlad watched it with disinterest but for a few moments, and then, left the statue that had claimed so much of his attention for months now to its own devices.<p>

He could hear crickets chirping sleepily in midst of the roses-he felt a slight twinge of irritation as he advanced away from the special place, away from his former prize.

Crickets….weren't the gardeners spraying enough pesticides to keep the insects away from the Rose Grove? This was, after all, one of the few places on the enormous premises that he actually cared for.

Under the cool night sky, the billionaire continued deeper into darkness, eagerness making him plunge through the hedges themselves, rather than simply navigate his way through the well-worn paths. Gasping, and impatiently brushing leaves away from his long silver hair, his footsteps hastened, and soon enough, he broke into a run, a contented smirk appearing on his face, cobalt eyes twinkling with delight.

At last! He had his angel, who was waiting for him somewhere in the garden. His breathing grew ragged with anticipation as he hurtled underneath an archway of blossoming lilies, accidentally trampling a few in his haste.

Almost there!

He'd ravaged for too long, and had yearned-for far too long.

His selfish heart almost twitched in pleasure at how very, very few references and resources the boy truly had; surely it wouldn't take much convincing to have the boy stay at his side, where he properly belonged. There was so much to explain-all in good time, of course, when the boy had been with him for at least a year. When he could be certain that the hybrid dancer would not desert him, when he could stop ghost-proof sealing his door at night.

A feeling of shame washed over him when he leapt nimbly over a series of marble angels at the knowledge of just WHAT he was truly keeping from the boy. But the boy could be safe and sound in his ignorance. And Vlad could labor behind closed doors to keep the secrets from pooling out, and ruining absolutely everything. In a few weeks, he'd have the greatest barrier between them down, and perhaps the two could better understand each other.

But first, he needed to indulge. Surely ONE slip wouldn't destroy him, would it?

At last, Vlad broke through a sea of brambles with a large smile on his face, face glowing like an ember with triumph, heart singing hymns.

He stepped into a clearing-directly into a nightmare. Although his heart still pounded vibrantly in his chest, his smile slowly slid off his face, eyes widening in his disbelief.

The blooms that had once been serenely arranged into flowers from a Midsummer's Night Dream were all now long since decayed, black, and dying, healthy, mysterious glow replaced by a sickening pallor of disease. Black vines had flourished here, only to die and leave their sad shells everywhere, like the remains of an enormous serpent hacked into pieces.

The starry night sky had given way to a rusty, hazy red fog, and crickets had long since stopped chirping. There was nothing but deathly silence in this place, which was as still as a tomb.

Bewildered, Vlad turned around at a soft noise; soft, but in this lonely place, nearly deafening:

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

He turned around, staring at the dark water underneath the cracked stones he stood upon. Something was idly dripping from the sky; impetuously, he stuck out a hand to catch a few stray drops.

A warm splash across his hand. He held it underneath his face-and jumped.

Blood.

His head loomed forwards-and the man shrieked, staggering backwards, back bumping against something solid: an old, gnarled tree trunk. Several birds roosting in the branches took flight at the shuddering disturbance, croaking angrily in indignation as they winged away into the fog.

He immediately looked upwards to find the bloody source, for obviously, it wasn't himself injured-but a quiet, tinkling tune overtook the air, successfully distracting him.

An all too familiar tune, one he'd never, ever wanted to hear again, permeated his ears. He slipped away from the old tree, turning his head desperately around, as a strange voice burst into song:

_"Who killed Cock Robin?" "I," said the Sparrow,  
>"With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."<br>"Who saw him die?" "I," said the Fly,  
>"With my little eye, I saw him die."<em>

Gritting his teeth, Vlad threw his head back in agony, teeth grit as he dug his hands into his hair.

"STOP!" he roared, fury raging in him like a tsunami. "Be silent! BE _SILENT, DAMN YOU!"_

But the voice continued to sweetly sing the Nursery Rhyme:

_"Who caught his blood?" "I," said the Fish,  
>"With my little dish, I caught his blood."<br>"Who'll make the shroud?" "I," said the Beetle,  
>"With my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud."<em>

Heart pounding, Vlad swung around in the courtyard, face now bloodless and pale.

Where was he?

Where was he?

This wasn't right; he'd known with all his heart that Daniel was waiting here-waiting for him. The vibrant strain that had helped him pursue the boy for so long had been stirring against his heartstrings once again; Daniel was here. He HAD to be, though it was all happening in a ghastly nightmare. He'd dreamt of meeting him at the old bridge under the moonlight, of happy exclamations, a few forbidden cravings that he conveniently tried to forget, and of claiming Danny as his heir.

He's imagined just warmth, contention, and sweet joy in finally beholding his prize. Just having the boy _smile_ at him at dinner tonight had sent electrifying bolts of joy through his system.

Love could come later, though the man already DID love him. As a son, of course. The other, perverted, twisted feelings that the one he loathed and feared cherished were only a broken, twisted mockery of what had once been for HER.

_"Who'll dig his grave?" "I," said the Owl,  
>"With my pick and shovel, I'll dig his grave."<br>"Who'll be the parson?" "I," said the Rook,  
>"With my little book, I'll be the parson."<br>"Who'll be the clerk?" "I," said the Lark,  
>"If it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk."<em>

Vlad seethed, and turned his head upwards at the old tree boughs again, but they were now ablaze. And, under the terrible, terrible firelight, he could at last see the body resting in the briars above.

Horrified, he screamed.

"DANIEL!"

_"Who'll carry the link?" "I," said the Linnet,  
>"I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link."<br>"Who'll be chief mourner?" "I," said the Dove,  
>"I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner."<br>"Who'll carry the coffin?" "I," said the Kite,  
>"If it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin."<em>

Limbs tangled and grotesquely twisted, there lay the shattered, angel of the parade of phantoms, white hair strewn over his eyes, mouth open in a silent scream. His scratched and bleeding limbs were arranged much like that of the winged, dancing statue Vlad had hidden away in his most private den.

Only instead of looking beautiful, majestic, and glorious, it was a mockery. He lay in the arms of the dark boughs, like the sad remains of a creature that wandered too far into the spider's parlor.

And the tree was still blazing at the roots. The flames were coming for his precious.

With a strangled shout, Vlad hurled himself into the tree, scrabbling desperately at the slippery bark as he hoisted himself forwards, out of reach of the eager, ravenous flames still licking at the base of the trunk.

"DANIE-AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The mighty tree, shuddering as the fire tore its roots from the Earth, let out a deep, resounding groan as it crumbled to Earth, sending the two males flying. With a grunt, Vlad toppled back to Earth, splashing into the small pond that had been below the tree-which, in the dark, now smelled a great deal like blood.

He saw stars flash before his vision as he abruptly tasted rust-but no matter. Stumbling up, and now covered with red stains, he fumbled for the burning bushes straight ahead, where Danny was still imprisoned inside the fallen tree boughs.

"Daniel! DANIEL!"

Wincing as fire started to contently blister and lick at his hands, he seized Danny, and dragged him out into the puddle of blood, immediately throwing his suit jacket over the small flames that had erupted on the boy's sorry clothing. Fire extinguished, and leaving sullen plumes behind, Vlad violently shook the motionless teenager, striking and patting his face.

"Daniel, Daniel, come on, wake up-"

He immediately stood up, bringing the child with him as he looked about for aid, heart fluttering in desperation.

They had to get out of here. His sprinkler systems should have long since deluged the fire, but that didn't concern the billionaire as much as their escape for their lives.

Something wicked-something truly, truly _evil _was here, at work tonight. He could feel it pounding in his bones, pulsating a rhythm:

_Get away, get away, get away, get away! _

scrabbled for the brush that he'd slipped through the maze to come inside-only to find himself staring at bleak brick. Sliding one hand free from underneath the teenager, Vlad desperately pounded on it, whipping his head about for the rose hedges-

They were all gone!

He made to dash to the path-but there was none. He found himself standing in an ever growing puddle of blood again, as the sickly sweet voice in the clearing was joined by another harsher, mocking tone:

_"Who'll bear the pall? "We," said the Wren,  
>"Both the cock and the hen, we'll bear the pall."<br>"Who'll sing a psalm?" "I," said the Thrush,  
>"As she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm."<br>"Who'll toll the bell?" "I," said the bull,  
>"Because I can pull, I'll toll the bell."<em>

_I'll toll the bell, I'll toll the bell…._

_GONG! _

_GONG!_

_GONG!_

Vlad heard a bell pounding the hour somewhere in the distance, chimes so loud that they shook the Earth, making ripples appear in the red pool he'd been treading. At last-he looked down, pulling Danny up higher by a few more inches.

What he saw almost made him drop the boy. There, reflected in the pool of blood, was a smiling ghost with red eyes twinkling with delight, mirroring his movements when he staggered back.

And he was holding a human boy in his arms, mirroid to the one Vlad was clutching. But while bloody wounds were identical to Danny's, this boy's hands and feet were bound.

And his blue eyes were open, but better that they were not! Vlad found himself staring into the depths of the most hopeless, dead eyes he'd ever seen, the blue orbs gleaming with sadness.

Vlad seized Danny in a tighter embrace as terrible, grating laughter rang into his ears with the fading bell tones, glowering with obscene hatred at the ghost now leering up at him.

"YOU!"

The ghost stopped laughing enough to send the man a derisive smile.

"Meeeeeee," sang the ghost, voice once again mocking, as though he were holding a rattle above the head of a helpless infant. "You really should be careful where you leave your things, Vladdie, old boy-one might think you didn't want them."

At this, his head dipped to the base of his captor's neck, biting the flesh playfully with his fangs before slowly trailing up kisses to the boy's lips.

Eyes widening with disgust, Vlad abruptly set his foot down and splashed the image as hard as he could, hoping that he could somehow hurt the ghost; but to no avail. He'd only managed to splash more blood on both he and the unconscious Phantasma still sleeping in his arms.

The blue skinned ghost's smile widened.

"Tut-tut. Temper, temper! Surely you realize that even you're beyond such unpleasantries, Masters. After all, you signed the boy over to me the day you 'met' as you so eloquently put it."

He gave the human's cheek a condescending squeeze.

"You must really HATE him, considering you didn't bother rescuing him immediately. Or did your little heart break when you 'lost' him again? And again? Honestly, I was ready to destroy the both of you fools. Weellllll…..not after I'd had my fun with the boy, of course."

The tell-tale smirk on his face made Vlad wish he had a dagger.

"Get out of here, _you filthy louse_," Vlad snarled, blue eyes blazing cold fire that didn't seem to frighten the ghost in the least. "I told you before-I will _never _lend lease to a murderer in my home!"

The demon chuckled, eyebrow rising.

"Well, if I am the louse, then surely you're the filthy hypocrite, Masters. After all this time of slamming the door in my face, claiming that you _didn't want the likes of me_ about, and that bit of sport about you loathing every fiber of my being, and you not wishing me on your worst enemies-all lies! You summoned me just days ago to kill all those people! Although I took high pleasure in that exquisite little blood bath…."

His purr broke off, and Vlad, shuddering, looked voluntarily down at his hands. Danny slipped from his arms, and he had to really fumble to keep him from sliding away into the pool of blood, away from the bugaboo.

His hands had been soaked in gore. The specter reflection started howling with laughter.

"See-even _you_ admit it! Your greed knows no bounds, you naughty man-which I find quite pleasing. At the very least, it's entertaining when you try to delude yourself into thinking you won't kill the child…"

Vlad found his voice again, and it rose to a scream:

"I WON'T LAY A FINGER ON THE BOY, YOU CONNIVING WORM! He's mine, do you understand me? Stay away from him! He's mine! MINE!"

"Just as SHE was yours, and you didn't plan on handing HER to me in a silver basket?"

The anger was abruptly washed from Vlad's face as the ghost smugly held up a small, twinkling locket, fangs glimmering in the moonless night.

"But you diiiiid, and you very well know what happened to her. Such a beauty….shame you wound up killing her. I rather liked her-I was very disappointed in you. Silly boy."

"She's not dead!"

"But you wish she was. And ultimately, what you did to her created a walking corpse."

Vlad opened his mouth to offer an enraged rebuttal, but the ghost simply cut him off:

"Try and deny me all you wish: I will not be denied. I hold your heart in my hands, Vladimir Masters-it was the price you gave me for all which you desired. And I gave you all that and more, though you're still too arrogant to know to stop when you're ahead. But you have a doomed set of cards, my dear man-so you might as well play them how you wish. In any case, the spectacle shall be amusing, and might I say rather beautiful?"

A pair of rings appeared at the boy's waist again, and Danny Fenton abruptly turned into Danny Phantom in the ghost's arms. Vlad stared, aghast, as the boy trembled, opened his eyes, and stared at the man imploringly.

"Why?" he asked softly, his voice a ragged, almost inaudible shadow.

The tears were gleaming in his eyes, but they were already racing down his bleeding face:

"…..why?"

Vlad stooped, desperate to pull the other Danny away-but he glanced down at his open, empty arms.

Daniel was gone. With a gasp, falling to his knees, the billionaire struck and sifted at the blood, trying to dive his way through to the teenager-but to no avail. The pool had deepened, and now, he saw, covered the tiny courtyard in a miniature ocean. It slowly bled from the walls in some places, gushing in spouts like waterfalls in the other.

His stone angel now stood in the corner, chest high in blood, face tranquil, though bloody tears raced from its eyes. The ghost started laughing again as the woman's voice began to sing the last few stanzas of _Who Killed Cock Robin_:

_"All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,  
>When they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin."<em>

"No!" shrieked Vlad, covering his ears. "No! Daniel-"

The ghost rose out of the blood, the red contents pouring from his prisoner's sides as the ghost started to advance on Vlad, an absolutely insane smile on his face.

"So unclean…..so hypocritical! You'll never let go, and that is precisely why the boy's fate has been decided! You will hand him over to me; this one's too much of a treasure to let go. He is mine-and the rest of eternity is ours."

All form of humor washed away from his features, and Vlad found himself staring at an enraged Plasmius, whose hair was flickering with fiery rage.

" Vile!" he spat. _"Dastardly human scum, at least I ADMIT what I am! But you, you are a disgrace, and you'll know what I have known, and what the boy will ALWAYS know."_

Cradling Danny in one arm, the red eyed ghost raised a hand-and manacles flew from every corner of the garden, immediately ensnaring the helpless man, who now found himself clinging to a petrified, bloodless shell of a woman's body.

Shouting in fear, crying out, Vlad attempted to pry his way free from the shackles cutting into his skin, but they only continued to drag at their poor puppet down into the bloody marsh….

…deeper….

…and deeper…..

…..and deeper, laughter ringing in his ears:

"….

**_"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" _**

* * *

><p>Vlad woke immediately, face drowning in sweat, heart pounding out of his ribs. Grabbing onto a nearby hardwood surface, he dragged himself upon it for support, and started to dry heave, forcing the contents of his stomach back down with all of his might.<p>

It took him but a moment, and he won the battle. Still shaking, Vlad, withdrew from what he found he was clinging onto-the staircase, for whatever reason-and abruptly realized where he was.

The fourth floor hallway. How the devil had he wound up here from his bedroom? Had he been sleepwalking? Somehow, he'd managed to catch a few winks in his armchair, though he'd been so excited last evening he could hardly contain himself. Then, he remembered nodding off after calling his doctors for Danny's physical tomo-(A quick glance at a grandfather clock told him that was TODAY) and, after the tea tray had been dropped off…..

His thoughts broke off.

Daniel. Oh, no. After that horrible, horrible dream….

Alarmed, his head shot up, where the boy's suite was waiting, behind an old shield and flanked by suits of armor….

Vlad fled to the door, cursing as he fumbled inside his pocket for the Skeleton Key, cursing his shaking fingers as he at last managed to draw it out, and, after a few tries, rip the door open. He burst in without a second thought.

Daniel was still lying safely in bed, seemingly unperturbed by the loud noise-he must have slept through worse. He was still sleeping quietly, face half tucked into his pillow, blanket brushed away from his body, for some reason. The boy was going to catch cold.

Vlad carefully tucked the comforters back up, and stole a glance at the balcony door, smacking himself in the face. Daniel must have accidentally left it open….he'd never told the boy not to, especially considering his staff occasionally left it open to air out the mostly unused bedroom….

He strode across the room, looked out the window, and carefully shut the doors, before locking them tightly with his glowing green key, and drawing the windows shut.

Stealing one last look at the hybrid, Vlad tiptoed away, now weak at the knees with thanks.

HE hadn't taken advantage of the boy's open door, and stolen in past the alarm system. Or if he had, Danny looked perfectly safe and sound. But Vlad was never, ever going to allow chance to draw up its ugly head ever again. The boy had to keep the doors shut tight. Always. The night was always looking to steal you away.

* * *

><p>When Danny woke up, face down in a cloud, he sighed dreamily, closing his eyes again, and snuggling into the softness. God, he didn't think he could bear to let this end. Soon after Vlad called the doctors, he'd have to thank the man on bended knee for his generosity, and go. It was the right thing to do. He wouldn't become a freeloader. Not ever, and certainly not for the man who'd already been so kind to him. He had to go. The sooner, the better.<p>

Danny turned his eyes to the ceiling, and buried himself under his blankets. He couldn't remember a time he'd slept so well, nor enjoyed the safety of a house, and home comforts. Food. Soap. Water. Just a few of the delights on the list!

If you could call this beautiful manor a home, that was. It seemed like one of those old-timey mansions that people took tours of with lots of flashing cameras rather than lived inside of. But nothing was quite so mysterious nor as appealing as the strange master of the hall, even if he did seem a few marbles short of a game.

Shaking his head at the thought, Danny stood, stretched, and limped his way to the bathroom, wondering faintly if Vlad had a map he'd be willing to lend.

After Danny had been called down to breakfast, he entered the dining room with smiling eyes, and a very content glow on his peaky face.

"Good morning!" he sang, as a kindly butler lead him to a seat at the table, already laden with fruit, juice, coffee, and steaming bread. "Good morning, Mr. Masters!"

Vlad was bent over a newspaper, head in his hands, expression bored.

"Mmmpphhh" was the only response that Danny got, as the man sullenly began to butter himself a biscuit.

High spirits sinking somewhat, Danny cast the man a nervous smile. Maybe the guy simply wasn't a morning person.

"I, uh, slept great last night. Thank you so much, again-the room was very comfortable."

Vlad only grunted once again, and carelessly turned a page in his paper. Danny swallowed, and was about to open his mouth, but Vlad merely gave the silver bell a careless wave, and the chefs came in with breakfast platters for them both.

The food didn't taste quite so fine as it did last night, as Danny's attempts to start polite conversation were, on the most part, ignored. Chewing on a piece of toast that might as well have been cardboard, Danny bent his head down, and forced himself to take a halfhearted sip of juice.

The man obviously was disappointed in his sad excuse of a guest, or tired of giving charity away. Hadn't Danny told him he would regret it?

'Easy come, easy go.'

Exhaling with some heaviness, Danny waited until Vlad was finished with his tray, eating around forty percent of the contents before feeling comfortably full. He stood up in the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"M-Mr. Masters, I think….."

He glanced outside at the gleaming bay windows of the dining hall, where birds were twittering, and freedom awaited.

"…..I think I better get going, sir," he said earnestly, at last earning himself a glance from the proprietor. "It looks really nice out, and if you could just point me towards a city or something, I'm sure to find something by this evening. Thank you very, very much for absolu-"

"You haven't finished your breakfast," Vlad said crossly, returning to his paper. "Sit down, and eat. You look like a starving dog; THAT won't make people suspicious of you in the cities. And have you forgotten that you have a doctor's appointment after breakfast?"

"But-"

"Daniel," the older man cut in, voice irate. "Sit down, and finish your plate. As a matter of fact, eat two. I don't care how long it takes you-just do it. I have work later this afternoon, and I've already taken off a few hours more to supervise your appointment. I won't waste more time then I need to. Capiche?"

Face flaming, Danny shook his head, realized Vlad had already hidden behind his paper again, and muttered a quick, "No, sir, yes sir" before abashedly seizing his fork again, eyeing the contents on his plate with some discomfort, and starting eating again, looking extremely uncomfortable, and very, very eager to take his leave of the table.

Peeking nonchalantly behind the news, Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose, and nearly slapped himself.

* * *

><p>"Young man, please RELAX your arms. And do calm down and take some deep breaths-your heart is going to fall out of your chest and land in your stomach. How'd you like that, eh?"<p>

Trembling, Danny reluctantly lowered his arms on the table, forcing himself to remain calm as goosebumps wracked his entire body. He wished Vlad were not standing behind the physician-the man had seen him half-naked too many times, already.

The cool instruments raced up and down his body, and Danny cursed silently as one paused behind his ear, reminding himself over and over again that the cords from the IV were NOT a whip, and that Vlad's doctors were not about to do the utmost punishment-the one that Freakshow saved for only when Danny had truly, truly disobeyed. The whip was a mercy killing in comparison.

The boy felt a nurse lay a cool hand on his forehead, and then step back to examine his IV machinery with a small frown.

"Still a little dehydrated….Danny, would you drink this?"

She offered the frozen boy a cup of cool water, casually dropping a few tablets inside. The boy stared at them distrustfully for a moment or two before she explained, "Your iron and potassium levels are still a little too low under the belt. Getting a healthy appetite and a diet should do wonders, but for now, a few supplements won't do you any harm, either."

Not daring to refuse, especially what with Vlad hanging around him like a large, dark vulture, Danny took the cup with a murmur of thanks and drained it, wincing at the taste.

A Doctor observing his foot with a growing frown cast him an approving nod as he joined the other physician still poring over Danny's scar wounds on his back.

"Good lad. Let's see…I believe a few stitches are in order for your ankle, young man. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'm afraid of you getting a bad infection."

He paused, and then slowly went on.

"At the very least…..I fear you getting yet ANOTHER one. Young man, are you aware you currently have a staph infection?"

Danny froze, but the nurse chimed in:

"A staph infection! That's not the least of it-son, your insides are a mess. I don't know WHAT in the world you've been eating, but your throat looks like you've been gargling glass, and your kidney-"

"Enough!" snapped Vlad angrily, and the three physicians, upon the word of their employer, fell silent. His cobalt eyes flickered to Danny, who was now staring at the gleaming floor of Vlad's examination room, tips of his ears steadily growing red, face paling.

Taking a deep breath, Vlad forced his face to freeze over once again, and he carelessly glanced out of a nearby window as another Doctor walked in, her brow furrowed as her sea green eyes raced over the boy's fluid results.

Her expression wasn't exactly a pleasant one.


	4. The Angel and The Ghost

The Angel and the Ghost

This is just a chapter covering a bit more of Danny's life in Circus Gothica...most preludes to the past are going to disappear for awhile as the story starts churning along at a faster pace. I think most of you might guess just what Danny had to do to protect Angelina, though while it's not COMPLETELY central to the plot, would definitely spoil some other things.

* * *

><p>"Well, you've been so kind, Mr. Masters, and let me just say <em>thank you<em> once again-"

It was early afternoon. Both Danny and Vlad were standing in what appeared to be a fancy parlor of some type filled with fine, winged chairs, plushy footstools, creepy deadhead trophies on the wall, and little china teacups that looked like they would shatter to pieces if you so much as winked at them wrong. It was remarkable how Danny's own, warm little cup of tea was holding out, considering how much Danny was shaking it.

Danny cut off mid-sentence, swallowed, smiled, and tried again. It was only by the fact that he still remembered some manners that he was still here; every fiber of his being was positively_ itching _for immediate escape. He had to convince the man he was fine, be cordial, turn his absurd offer down politely, and rocket like all hell out the window.

"-for everything you've done for me. I'll never forget you, sir, I promise."

He hastily stood up from his armchair, forcing himself to grin harder when his aching wounds stung wildly in retaliation. Considering how big and false the smile was, and the fact that his eyes were now watering, it looked like a grimace.

"But, the open sky awaits, and I really, really need to-"

"Daniel."

The boy fell silent, feeling worried and annoyed all at once. Keen to avoid looking at the halfa, Vlad's silver spoon chinked loudly against the china sugar bowl, and the man dropped in a lump or two into the steaming contents of his own cup. He looked bored, though there was a hard-set muscle twitching in his jaw.

"My physicians unanimously insisted that you begin your first of many medical procedures as soon as possible; some offered to have the OR ready by as early as this evening."

Danny forced out a laugh.

"Yeah, well, that's only IF I opt to have the surgeries, which, if you don't mind me saying, I think I'll just-"

"-have them all," Vlad said firmly, his tone cold and not allowing for any argument. "Daniel, I must insist you have your ankle and back repaired, as a start. The doctors also wanted permission to have a more, if you'll pardon the term_, internal_ examination to see if you need further evaluation…."

Danny's ears went bright red.

"No! I-I mean, that's totally unnecessary!" he squeaked, when Vlad slowly rose his head to skeptically quip an eyebrow at him. "Just a-another waste….a-another waste of time and m-money."

God, did his voice have to go THAT high? And, why was he doing this to begin with?

Danny just started shaking his head, and slowly started to back for the door; Vlad stood out of his own chair immediately, now scowling. Leaning on a glossy, gold-capped walking stick, he strode over to the teen still eyeing the door behind him.

"Don't fight me on this, Daniel. I'm afraid I must insist."

Irritation sparked inside of him, and Danny scowled in turn, shifting uneasily to one foot or the other.

"I said, no thanks. Mr. Masters, I need to leave. Right now."

Vlad scoffed.

"Seems poor repayment for my labors, your going out to the outskirts of some godforsaken city so that you can huddle in some shack or cardboard box," he commented snidely, wincing when Danny cast him a sharp glance.

Ah, he wished he hadn't have said that.

"Thought you insisted it was nothing?" Danny asked quietly, feeling a twinge of guilt-and then anger-burst inside him.

It was obvious, now: Vlad regretted rescuing him. As painful the thought was, it was Vlad's own problem, not his. Danny only had ever wanted his liberty; he hadn't been out to make friends. While the billionaire bit his lip, obviously trying to think of a tactful answer, the indignant teen shifted to his ghost form.

The effort left him dizzy; he seized hold of a nearby bookshelf to steady himself as the world rippled and trembled underneath his feet.

He heard a gasp, some hurried, light thuds on the ground, and then, felt a pair of arms hesitantly wind lightly around his torso.

"Daniel. Daniel, I'm sorry. Please sit down-you look weak off your feet."

Danny muttered a protest, but Vlad had already gently steered him back to his chair, and settled him deep within the cushions once more. He felt his cup return to his hands; and a hand as timid as though handing a wild, snapping animal with toothy jaws smoothed through his dark hair, and settled against his shoulder, awkwardly clasping it before it moved to his chin, tilting up slightly. Once the world stopped swimming before his eyes, Danny dazedly saw a pair of anxious looking, dark blue eyes peering intently at him.

Awkward, and feeling warmth pool in his face, he tried to look away, but Vlad's other hand found its way to his face, forcing him to look directly at the billionaire. To his surprise, far from looking harsh, the man now looked earnestly entreating and…apologetic?

"Daniel. I'm so sorry-are you alright? You feel a little hotter, now….I hope you aren't taken ill again?"

A hand gently cupped his forehead, and the color in the teen's face deepened as he tried to wriggle his way free.

Did Vlad have Multiple Personality Disorder, or something? But now, he felt more suspicious then before, and now a little insulted. Was Vlad the type to play warm gentleman only when it looked like he might not get what he wanted?

Still looking unhappy, Vlad tentatively withdrew, turned around, and reached for the teapot, carefully withdrawing a small pill from his pocket in the spout, and discreetly dropped it into the spout. He hurriedly turned round again, and poured more tea into Danny's cup before handing it back to the boy.

"Daniel? I don't understand why you don't wish these procedures to take place….it would take but a few moments, and a week or two's recovery time. You are safe here as long as you wi-Daniel, why are you shaking your head like that? My physicians are extremely well-trained, you are in no danger."

For some reason or another, the teen had some difficulty believing that. But he only averted his gaze, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"I…I've caused enough trouble, and, uh, I…"

It felt as though his throat were closing up; Vlad stared at him intently, prodding him to continue when no finish came forthwith. Danny swallowed painfully, breathing and heart rate picking up.

"…..I'm….I don't…ah…."

_Knives. So many knives. Boots kicking him around the Ring; Freakshow's shouts of rage, seven cuts on his forearm, seven on the other, seven on his hips, and then, after that…._

"Daniel! Daniel, BREATHE!"

He was being shaken; being yanked out of his reverie, the startled boy found himself still sitting in front of the billionaire, whom now looked more worried than ever. He gulped in air: His lungs were burning.

"My boy, you're not well. You were so red, and now you're white as a sheet! What's wrong? Are you hurting?"

He didn't speak because he could not; there was still the thought of scapels.

A pause, and then, he felt himself rise. Surprised, he looked at the floor disappearing from under his feet, and stopping to dangle in midair. Someone tucked an arm under them-

"Hey!" Danny squawked, humiliated. "Put me down!"

"Don't be absurd," Vlad muttered under his breath, before moving for the door. "You're going straight to bed, young man, and then, this evening, I'll have my surgeons prep you for…."

Danny hurriedly phased out of his captor's arms, and floated into the air, arms crossed, pout crossing his face.

"Look, I'm fine, okay? I just...I just don't want to have an operation! I don't _need _one!"

Finally, Vlad lost his temper.

"Daniel, _you're falling apart at the seams_! My doctors told me that it was a wonder you were still breathing after the torment your body was put through! Good gracious, do you think they wouldn't use anesthesia and painkillers before and after?"

Danny only abruptly swung his head back and forth.

"It's not that I'm scared of that-In fact, _that's _the problem! I don't want to lie back knocked out on some operating table while human doctors start poking at me with knives and start wondering how to slice me into pieces so they can examine my DNA!"

Sobered, the man simply looked up at him, comprehension flickering in his eyes.

"Ah," he said quietly. "I….see."

Danny glanced his way, and was shocked to see that Vlad's face was twisted with pain. His hands were tightly clutching his walking stick, and knuckles were starkly white.

"Daniel, I beg my pardon for my ignorance and my rudeness. Please," he murmured, taking a surprised Danny by the hand and exhaling deeply, "Believe in what I said last night. I won't allow _anything_ dangerous to come within five hundred yards of you, so long as you do me the honor of staying under my care. I'll see to it that my doctors treat you with the utmost gentleness; I'll promise to overlook the procedure itself if you're still uneasy."

He was still missing the point. Danny tried to tug his gloved hand away, but could not. Vlad wanted-and would be-heard out.

"Please, Daniel. My team is hand-selected, and extremely trustworthy. At ANY time during the night, I could have…." He flinched, "Come for you, while you were out cold. There were NUMEROUS times in your stay with me that I could have hurt you, and did not."

But he didn't have a knife during the time. Vlad squeezed his hand until Danny looked at him again.

"Danny. It's your personality that fascinates me, not simply your genetic code. I'm not so naïve as to try and tear beau-ah, interesting wonders apart in the name of discovering how they 'work.'"

He scoffed.

"Appreciating beauty and ravaging beauty are two very different things, Daniel. Always remember that."

The teen, while only slightly reassured, was still dumbfounded.

_Did Vlad just say that he found him fascinating?_

_And what was with that talk of 'beauty?' _

Looking uncomfortable, the man withdrew slightly, looking away.

"I'd much rather you get the procedures over and done with, son. If you really are going to strike out on your own-" (His voice was mild, but lightly soaked with disdain) "-then at least give me the satisfaction of knowing you're in good, physical shape, wherever you might be heading."

Danny said nothing. How could he?

There was quiet between the two for a moment, and Vlad gently let go of Danny's hand, before clearing his throat.

"Just where the deuce would you be heading, anyway, if you don't mind me asking? Just 'anywhere?'" he asked, looking shrewd. "I assume you have no acquaintance to stay with in the immediate vicinity?"

Much to his satisfaction, Danny sank back into his chair, still clutching his teacup, eyes downcast. A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, now looking faintly amused.

"Actually, maybe, somewhere. I never actually knew whether or not she made it to the Bronx, but I like to think that she did. I guess the only question left after that is what she wound up doing."

"Go on," encouraged Vlad, sitting down back in his chair.

Danny seemed to be talking more to himself then to Vlad when he vaguely responded:

I wonder if Ange's parents took her back."

Vlad watched Danny raise his teacup to his mouth, and was disappointed to see him lower it. But the teen had started speaking again:

"For a little while, I wasn't completely alone at Circus Gothica. There was this girl for about a month."

For whatever reason, Vlad froze, and his empty teacup slipped from his fingertips, onto his lap, before it tumbled onto the carpet. He guised it as a result from a sudden coughing fit he developed all of a sudden.

"Really?" he asked hoarsely, waving his hand carelessly when Danny concernedly asked if the man were alright. "Yes, yes…..but I believe….I might have heard wrong….something about you and a girl?"

Danny nodded, his eyes distant, somewhat misty.

"Yeah. It happened about six months after I'd been brought to the Circus….we'd been given orders to run another neighboring circus out of town. Freakshow hates competition, especially ones that try to 'copy' his so-called ingenious acts." He snorted. "He summoned his ghostly theater troupe to scare the Ringmaster of Circus Fire and Stars and his crew away, even going himself for the 'fun.' Normally, he just has his ghosts ruin one of his rival's acts and creates chaos and panic, so that the other circus goes into failure. But this time, he ordered his men to stay back until he finished watching the entire thing….he'd seen a kid who jumped from a tightrope miles above everyone's heads, survived, and then did a little dance in a fiery ring. Freakshow was all impressed, and asked around about the girl, who turned out to be the daughter of the Ringmaster himself. She was really good….I think she was trained to perform when she was two.

From what I heard, he got all buddy buddy with one of the other performers; a strongman who was a drunk and had a gambling addiction. Anyway, he talked it over with him, and the strongman, considering he hated the attention Angelina-that was her name-got from the entire Circus staff, had no problem offering to 'transfer' Angelina to Freakshow's 'care.'"

He shuddered. The room was deathly silent.

"So, the jerk wound up selling her to Freakshow to pay off his gambling debts. He slipped something in her food; I don't know what it was, exactly. The next evening, the ghosts carried off Angelina while she was still sleeping. She….woke up in a locked caravan next to mine."

"Angelina was-"

"Was she very lovely?"

Danny sent a bewildered glance towards his benefactor, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Vlad seemed to have become very interested in a bird outside the window.

"Huh?"

Vlad intently stared at a robin feeding her young brood on a nearby branch outside the bay window, his expression mute.

"Well, Daniel, I doubt Freakshow would have hired a less than lovely performer for tightrope walking. Was she very athletic?"

But before Danny could even open his mouth again, Vlad answered his own question:

"She must have been, of course, if she was performing by age two. I'd probably be correct to assume that she had lovely large eyes, or pretty almond-shaped ones, and had a shapely figure….."

He sounded almost rueful.

"I…..I dunno," said Danny, slightly dumbfounded. "I wouldn't notice anything like that-you'd kinda have to be a sicko to think about it. Angelina was only eight years old; she was kind of like my kid sister for the weeks she was in Circus Gothica."

Vlad slowly turned his eyes back to Danny, fighting to keep the impassive poker face deadlocked on his face, although the corners of his mouth were twitching oddly.

"Ah. That's better….and worse, my boy."

Not quite understanding what he meant, Danny only nodded slowly, before taking another sip of cocoa, frowning slightly as he lowered the clay mug.

"When she woke up, and couldn't figure out where she was, she started crying and screaming. I tried to tell her everything from my cage, but she didn't hear or didn't want to hear me, especially when Freakshow sent a ghost from one of his stage crew members to rattle the cage bars to get her to stop. It took me forever to calm her down the first time; I think she believed me when I told her a monster could come hurt HER next time if she kept shouting.

"She cried most of the time, the first three or four days. I really can't say I could blame her, poor thing. Her parents must have been worried sick; she said she had a dog at home and friends at school. She said that she changed schools every three months when her family's caravan would move on, and that she never got to know her classmates longer than a few weeks. But she said that she had at last met a friend named Lily, who let her sit next to her at lunch, listened to her stories of circus life, and wanted to join her and her family on the road. She said Lily split her mother's homemade brownies with her, and that she helped Lily with her Math homework, while Lily helped her cheat on a Phonics test."

Danny turned his cup over, smiling sadly.

"She wanted to talk about almost nothing else. Lily this, Lily that-it almost drove me crazy sometimes, but as guilty as I felt about it, I was glad to have company.

She told me about Lily at night, begging me to help her escape and return home."

Danny's voice became lower, though the twisted smile on his face did not go.

"I had to show her the machine strapped onto my ankle a hundred times before she would believe me: I couldn't help her be free. When she was still going through the whole 'denial' stage, she called me a bad, bad person and a liar. She threw her food, and cried when she was dragged out of her cage the following day, stuffed into a tutu, and told to practice alongside the ghosts. She was terrified out of her mind; she actually fainted once or twice the first training session. There weren't any safety nets or wires for her peace of mind, like the ones her parents made her train with to see to it that she didn't get hurt. Freakshow finally lost his patience when she started clinging to one of the ballast poles, forty feet above the ground with nothing more than empty ground beneath her. She got used to performing her new dances with Lydia and I after Freakshow started punishing her by taking away her food, and I didn't have much that I could poke through the bars for her.

She was always sad, and always very hungry; I definitely think she regretted throwing her food at the performers after the first few days. I finally had to bribe one of the performers to give us more food to split between us. Ange and I got pretty close after that."

Vlad frowned, looking troubled.

"What….what exactly did you have to bribe him with, Daniel?"

Danny's grip on his teacup tightened, but he went on, disregarding Vlad's question.

"So when winter rolled around, we started doing this weird, gothicy version of 'The Nutcracker.' She was this tormented, teenager version of Clara, and I was her dark 'Nutcracker' prince sent from beyond the grave to defend her from the Rat King. We occasionally performed this act in the theater, and Freakshow got a lot of money from it. I think that's why he called a Doctor for her four performances later when she got really sick."

The teen closed his eyes wearily.

"She was the only 100% human at Circus Gothica, and her immune system wasn't done developing. She wasn't used to such cramped and dirty conditions, and she got pneumonia from being out in the cold too long. We were moved into the horse stables, which were a little better for awhile, and Mr. Mania ordered me to keep her warm on doctor orders. She didn't want to eat much anymore, and I was afraid that every time I'd come back from a practice session that I'd find her dead on the straw. I wrapped her up as much as I could, and I had to bribe one of the performers for hot water again until I couldn't stand it anymore-"

"Couldn't stand 'what' anymore, Daniel?"

"Later, Mr. Masters….at least the doc left medicine for her to take, but like I said, it was a job getting her to swallow things. Two weeks later, Angelina started to come back around, but Freakshow told everyone that he didn't want an unnecessary expense, so Ange had to start performing again soon, or….or….."

"Or…..?"

"He'd kill her."

"Ah."

"Luckily, while I was still bribing one of the troupe members, when he'd fallen asleep, I managed to whisk away a travel map from one of his drawers, a compass, and a little money he'd probably filched from Freakshow. Freakshow doesn't pay any of his performers," Danny explained patiently. "Most of them are completely emotionless, but some get pretty resentful, even if they ARE under his control over time. He's not going to receive a Boss 1# mug anytime soon."

_Especially considering that he's rotting in a pile of corpses_, Vlad thought darkly, imagining the hideous things he'd so like to do to the pathetic Ringmaster, if he hadn't regretfully killed him so quickly.

"Anyways, I realized that because Angelina was a normal human, they hadn't bothered getting her a ghost-proof cell like mine. They only had wood and iron bars for her.

Ange was getting a little better, though she wasn't really in any shape to perform. Freakshow had only given her two more days, so the night before her last, I bribed the same troupe member one last time. Thankfully, he was the one who had the keys to all the normal cages with the actual animals inside, so I managed to swipe Angelina's key. I'd saved some rations, and hid all the stuff underneath some straw. The night before Ange was set to perform, despite the fact that she could barely walk, we managed to get her out of her cage. That was the last time I ever saw her, hobbling out the door while everyone out was busy partying it up on Christmas Eve for the holiday Truce. I knew it was dangerous sending out a little kid in the cold, but we had no other choice; Freakshow would have fed her to the ghost wolverines as a Christmas present. The map said that there was a bus route just down the road-I made Ange make sure she could follow the instructions to it, first.

When they came back and found her gone, they went looking for her, but never found I never knew if she made it back home or not. At the very least, I don't think she told anyone who really kidnapped her, though I guess I can't blame her."

His tone was level, but slightly bitter; Vlad's face went scarlet with rage.

"Are you joking? She could have told the authorities! My boy, I'm positive her parents-"

"-would have believed a story about her being kidnapped by a circus full of ghosts?" Danny asked, his tone kind, though full of pity. "I still hoped for a little while after Christmas Day and I received my official punishment for helping her escape. But months went by, and I just….stopped."

Danny was smiling slightly, but his face was still ravaged by sadness.

"I heard some kids talking about her, though, when they came by my cage. At the very least, they matched her description when I asked; apparently, she's back in her family's circus, more successful than ever. I was happy for her. Still am."

"She betrayed you."

"No. We don't have an address; we just moved around all the time. Maybe Angelina DID remember to mention my name to the authorities, but by the time they came around, it was probably too late to do anything about it."

Danny at last took a sip of tea, surprised when a sense of calm washed over him. He HAD gotten his freedom, after all, in the end. Just so long as he never looked back at the last three, unbearable years of his life, he'd be fine. He wouldn't need to heal; he'd acknowledge that he'd never been harmed or left behind in the first place.

Vlad slowly stood, eyeing him mournfully.

"My dear boy" was all he said.

Danny just shrugged, taking another sip of tea. This stuff was seriously relaxing….what was it? Star Anise? He hadn't had tea in a very long time.

Vlad limped towards him, and slowly, awkwardly, and distastefully, as though he were handling something like a slug, pulled a startled boy into an embrace, soothingly rubbing the boy's scarred back.

Shocked at the touch, embarassed, face now flaming, Danny still smiled, shy, but appreciative.

And so very, very sad and hurting inside.

* * *

><p>*Sniffs* Sad Chapter not very revelant to the story, but hey, Danny is at least trusting Vlad a bit more, now.<p>

Next chapter: _Visitors_. Get out your scrubs: Danny's going under the knife, and doing a little 'sploring around the place! There's a reason why Vlad's so scared to touch Danny, and he's skulking about the place...


	5. Visitors, Part I

Phantasma

Chapter Five: Visitors, Part I

I've had neck and back surgery done before….it's scary stuff! After a bit of angst, it does lighten up a bit, folks. :) And the mystery deepens...

Yes, there IS a scene PURPOSEFULLY MISSING FROM THIS CHAPTER. It skips. You find out WHY in the next one! ^^

Thank you so much for the reviews, you guys! ^^ *Hugs reviewers* They are my shredded coconut. And shredded coconut is my chocolate, which is my cheesecake, which is my crack, which is my...

Ah, well...please read and review. And note to the reviewer who caught that I had mistakenly wrote Danny drinking tea...which turned to cocoa...(*Gasps* Like water to wine!) kudos to you! :D You have a very sharp sense of observation! So sorry. Thank you for pointing that out.

* * *

><p>What was more frightening: The blinding lights that glared above him, stinging his vision into a hapless shade of white, or the curtain of darkness he knew was coming soon-the darkness that would send him spinning into possible oblivion?<p>

Squinting, and telling himself that his eyes were somewhat wet because of the stupid, stupid friggin' spotlights they had in this ugly white room, Danny shifted uncomfortably on his metal gurney, feeling the cold of the hospital machinery bite through the paper-thin sheets they used for 'sanitary' purposes to his back, which, if like any other part of his body right now, was probably covered in gooseflesh.

He was insane, he was insane, he was insane and he had to stop telling himself that _this instant_, else he knew he was going to phase himself free of the numerous IV needles they'd stuck into him-like a pincushion-and run, run, run for the hills, run for cover, run to the ends of the Earth; heck, he'd run for the exercise. The only time he'd ever been under the knife-at least, in THIS sense-was when he had his tonsils taken out when he was two, which didn't really count much, considering he did not remember it.

Still listening to the doctors, now fully outfitted in scrubs and spectacles, talking seriously in the corner and pretending that he could not hear what they were saying, Danny whimpered, and drew his shaking hands to his breathing mask clamped tightly over his face. For a mechanism that would keep his breathing rate normal during the procedure, the thing was seriously uncomfortable, and somewhat suffocating as it forced air down his throat, and faster than he could exhale past the new burn in his throat, the machine would shoot it down again in a _whoooosh_. He was hyperventilating, in more ways than one.

He was not going to go through with this. Gasping, Danny attempted to rip the mechanism off, but it would not budge; someone had tapered the wires to his skin.

Rolling his eyes, the teen than tried to phase intangibly out of his web of wires, but much to his horror-

Nothing happened.

Startled, Danny tried to transform. The silver transfiguring waves would not even appear at his waist. Gritting his teeth, and trying with all of his might, Danny attempted once again, straining uselessly at the netting-like machines buzzing and beeping all around him like a poor, trapped fish. A faint spark appeared momentarily near his navel, but in a flash, it was gone, and one of Vlad's physicians looked over concernedly once Danny's heart pacer started thudding out a series of frantic beeps. Terrified, Danny thrashed against the restraining cords, fighting against the doctors who were now attempting to hold him down. With an angry cry, Danny kicked out at a nurse trying to hold down his ankle, only to give the physician behind him time to firmly tug the halfa back down to his bedding. While he whipped his head around to deal with THAT one, two other members of Vlad's operating team seized the opportunity to grab Danny's arms, and hurriedly tapered them down to the bed with an elastic, Velcro cord. Despairing, mind spinning with panic, Danny tried to turn his head around again, but as his other leg was trapped, Danny was forced back down to the bedding, now completely trussed up. The doctors stared at him soberly as he attempted to wriggle his way free, humiliated tears now pouring down his face.

_Just like last time just like last time it's gonna happen again because you're a big, worthless, stupid trusting awful horrible terrible bad bad bad bad abomination. Badbadbadbadbadbadbad-!_

Gasping, and writhing as if he were in mortal agony, Danny let out a cry of fury, trying again and again to free himself of his bonds, but to no avail; suddenly, the doctors were gone from his vision, and the world was moving underneath him-to THAT room-!

"**Nooo**!" Danny cried out, sounding ready to scream. "Nooo! I-I've changed my mind! I don't want this!_ I DON'T WANT THIS!" _

He startled; a pair of midnight cobalt eyes were now gazing down on him. Surprised, Danny stopped struggling, if only for a moment, as Vlad muttered some order to one of the doctors, and he heard the cart's squeaky wheels come to a stop.

He hadn't expected the man to appear quite so suddenly after an anxious Danny had reluctantly changed into a hospital gown. The man had left him alone with a reassuring smile, a clap on the back, and told him to lie down and relax on the gurney for a moment before they began to wheel him off to the O.R. But that, it transpired, was a mistake-one Vlad had to fix right this INSTANT.

But the amount of….whatever it was…..in the man's eyes, glittering with pity and pain astounded him wordless. He could not remember being looked at in that way, as if by a grieving parent, for many, many years.

Vlad slowly leaned over the boy, trying to smile, but the attempt was shaky and sad. Still reluctant, still careful, he placed his hands on Danny's shoulders, trying to ease him back onto the freezing sheets.

"Please, Daniel, relax," he murmured, suddenly finding his gleaming shoes breathtakingly beautiful all of a sudden, judging by the transfixed gaze he was giving them while Danny glowered at him, outraged. "They know better than to hurt you…I would never allow anyone to-"

"Please, Mr. Masters," Danny begged, and Vlad's heart nearly broke when he unwillingly glanced up, looking directly at Danny's agony filled, cerulean eyes. "I don't know that. Let me go."

"Daniel, do you assume my judgment is so poor I'd hire physicians who would dare try harming you under my roof?"

Danny thrashed under the elastic bands, still willing with all his might for his ghost form to come forwards.

"I don't KNOW! I don't even know YOU, for that matter, or why the heck you're doing this! I don't want to go through this. I want to be on my way, and out of your hair, already! Ermph-" he kicked uselessly in the air as a nurse discreetly dipped behind him, reaching for his arm with one hand, a sedative injection clutched in the other. Vlad cringed at the sight, but only sighed heavily, as though he'd aged about twenty more years.

Danny stared bewilderedly at his waist, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned a confused face to his benefactor, wondering what the heck was going on.

"M-Mr. Masters, something's w-wrong. I can't g-go g-ghost."

"I know," Vlad murmured quietly drawing a hand through Danny's dark spikes, giving the nurse behind the gurney a sharp look, silently telling her to wait.

Uncomprehending, Danny only gazed at him. It only took a few seconds before puzzlement turned to surprise, to shock, to blistering anger-

"You," he gasped, now really needing those consistent rushes of air pouring down his throat. "M-My drink….e-earlier today….you…?"

"Shall I tell you a lie?" asked Vlad morosely, looking away again. "It was for your own benefit, boy. I had no choice."

Silenced, Danny only stared at him, and then, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, he opened his mouth to scream. Wincing at the shrieks of horror, Vlad didn't clamp his hands over his ears as he longed to, and gave a quick nod of the head to the nurse. Looking unhappy, she nonetheless quickly seized Danny's flailing arm, and, under a microsecond, quickly injected the fluid into a vein.

Danny's cries turned to shuddering sobs as he whipped his hand away, but it was too late; the damage had been done, and now, he lay, half-smiling over the irony of it all, shaking madly, crying relentlessly, cowering into a ball as Vlad uncertainly reached for him, trying to console him-

He was going to die. After all that suffering and hopeless hope, and the fact THAT HE DIDN'T TAKE HIS CHANCES AND RUN WHEN HE STILL HAD A CHANCE TO-they were going to kill him. Or worse, keep him under a state of constant comatose, and slice him apart piece by little piece, or run experiments on him and see how much he screamed when they dug through his organs, still forcing him to stay alive as they prodded his heart, as Mom and Dad would have wanted to! Betrayed yet again, and had made the mistake of trusting, _yet again!_

"Oh, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel, please don't cry, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry," he could faintly hear the billionaire say softly, fingers tracing lightly over the boy's face, withdrawing quickly once he felt the teen flinch under his touch. "I didn't want to hurt you like this, I _swear_ I didn't, but I was afraid this would happen, and you would get up and hurt yourself, unconsciously or not. Just relax-I'll make sure you're safe throughout the entire ordeal, and I promise, you can hit me as much as you like once you wake up. Shhhh, shhhh, I'm sorry….I truly am….."

Panicked, Danny felt the drowsiness weighing down his limbs, forcing him to relax. Eyes still filled with tears, and bones practically blazing with the sheer amount of hatred inside of him, he glared at the man above him, teeth grit, eyelids flickering.

"You-" he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep, tinged with an octave of fear. "You…..really are just….like everyone else…"

No. He had to stay awake-it was a matter of life or death, he'd die if he didn't, couldn't close his eyes, even if they were very very very heavy, and he felt so tired, and the room felt so much nicer and warmer to him while it started twirling….and he was so tired...

No, no, no, no, no…..

A hand cupped his cheek, and Danny glanced up, surprised, as he looked up into a face he had not seen in three years: Jack Fenton was suddenly staring down at him, his face lined, much more so then Danny remembered it, his normally dark eyes now a stormy blue, and hooded besides-

"That's right," Jack answered, in a voice very….he didn't know, unJacklike. It was tender. "You'd do well to remember that, Daniel, but just so long as you don't do anything stupid in my home, you'll be fine."

Jack brushed his at the boy's brow, and Danny gazed at him through lidded eyes, while faintly listening to a half-forgotten nursery rhyme being sung somewhere in the distance. Was that in his own head? Was someone playing it?

The man cautiously caressed his brow, and spoke again, still using Mr. Master's voice:

"He won't go near you, my boy. So long as you stay under the wire, you're perfectly safe here. With me."

Who was 'he?'

But before he could contemplate the matter any further, an enormous tidal wave of sleep capsized over Danny's body, and he was submerged into peaceful nothingness, the last sensation he could remember was a pair of warm hands wrapped tightly around his own.

* * *

><p>It was a marvel it still worked, after all of these years.<p>

The man stared coldly at the hated little box in his hands, snapping it shut, and abruptly shoved it deep into his pocket before temper bested reason and he shattered the thing. As many bitter memories were associated with this thing, he knew he would regret it unduly if he smashed it. Danny, most likely, had not seen it, but if the boy DID recognize it…..

He had a nasty feeling his suspicions were right. It was nothing short of a sort of miracle; a most twisted and ironic one, that he of all people would be her son, but he prayed that he was mistaken. For if Daniel's parents had indeed sold him into slavery….that could only mean….

Staring through the Special Operations viewing window, Vlad stared at the tears still running down Danny's blank face while the doctors gathered around him, quietly murmuring amongst themselves, carefully prying off the boy's nightshirt and turning him over as to get a better look at his back.

….why?

How cruel and sadistic would one have to be to allow your only child to be thrown into the depths of hell, chained, trained like a little dog, and then go to sleep at night covered in the rotting food people hurled at them? Madeline and Jack loved their children unduly-even if their son somehow, by some miracle, HAD become a half ghost, the very one who lay before him-how had this happened?

He needed to convince the boy to stay. For more reasons than one: He had a little investigating to do in these odd matters. A little poking here-a little prodding there….he'd have the truth soon enough.

And if it confirmed his fears, then he would relinquish the vow he'd made years ago about murder. Jack Fenton would die, but Madeline….

His stomach contorted itself into knots, and he quickly looked at Daniel, wincing when he noticed one of his doctors withdrawing a bloody incision knife.

Ah. Painful, but necessary…the procedure for back and ankle was scheduled to take about nine hours or so. Danny would need at least a day or so to sleep off the anesthetic, though he'd most likely drop right back to sleep minutes after he woke, wanting pain medication. While the operation would save him a great deal of pain down the road, and the gashes would be healing by Danny's most unusual rate of injury repair by then, it would still hurt.

A lot.

Vlad did not wish to watch this, but he forced himself to; if Daniel fled upon wakening, (Though if he could even walk, that would be nothing short of a miracle) he would not blame him overmuch, as it would be primarily his fault. While pleading and explaining the matter calmly had not been enough to eradicate the paranoia the boy had, drugging him was by far a worse alternative. The boy would not wish to stay with him, but he'd have no choice over the next few days while he recovered. In the meantime, Vlad supposed he would simply have to grovel. It was pathetic, and while it was about as appealing as running his arm through a meat grinder or sewing his face to the ground with copper wire, (Perhaps a bit dramatic, but he was a man with some pride) it was necessary.

Danny had to stay. He must. There was no danger for him here….at least, no danger that he could not control. His quarters would remain safely ghost-proofed, and well equipped with alarms. Plasmius had only attempted to harm Madeline while he'd courted her to remind him of the deal that the two had made. After he'd fled from her and the wretched demon had lost interest, most thankfully, the woman was allowed to get on with her life.

But he had a truly terrible feeling in the depths of his stomach that left him feeling uneasy. If Plasmius showed his face again, he'd be able to explain his interest with Daniel as a sheer intellectual and platonic one; then perhaps he wouldn't haunt the two of them, or, holy God FORBID...approach Daniel and...

And...

The thought was so unpleasant and unnerving that he went cold, though the chamber was quite warm.

* * *

><p><em>…<em>

_…_

_…._

_He was performing in Circus Gothica, wearing that dumb sparkly green and black outfit Freakshow insisted he wear for the new rendition of the Circus of Nightmares. Lydia was twirling elegantly on the ground below him, face set into a cool mask, same as always. There was glitter streaming from the air, and he was spinnng in midair, dancing with a malevolent shadow that had always scared him just a little._

_No…._

_…._

_….he was comforting Angelina, running a hair through her now-stringy raven ringlets, and was pressing a quick kiss on her cheek before he pushed her away from his cage, and bid her goodbye while she hurried out the door, face in her hands…._

_No…_

_He was lying in a puddle of blood after his punishment, his body burning to the point that he was numb to the pain he was supposed to feel from the whip cracking in the air….._

_No-he was being carried away from his parents, and had his ankle shackled. He left such deep scars at the muscle, trying to free himself, that he'd passed out a couple of times when he'd all but wore his flesh down to the bone, whimpering. _

_No-he was in the Fenton portal, screaming when the force of the Ghost Zone was rushing into his body. _

_No-he was twelve years old, abashedly watching his mother open a Mother's Day gift. _

_No-he was four, and his parents were tucking him in one night. Dad had assured him no specter would come at him, but one night, huddled underneath his blankets, heart pitter-pattering so loudly he pressed his hands against it in an attempt to silence its beats as something gazed at him from the shadows, with very large, very cruel, and very real red eyes. _

_And it had very sharp and scary teeth. _

_It came to his bed, and Danny could not shout, because some wise inner child within him told him that it would do no good; the monster was there to eat him, and his screaming would only bring his parents, who must surely die also…._

_No….._

_A pair of arms reached out in the darkness, and Danny was tugged into the darkness; one so blinding and definite that he could not see anything but the glowing red eyes, which illuminated just enough so that he could see the fangs glittering below. _

_Much to his surprise, he was not swallowed whole, nor did he disappear into a monster's belly. He was carried, and he had to cling to the apparition holding him, because he could see nothing, and they were going very, very fast now-was the beast running, or flying? _

_They started heading downwards, hurtling downwards, so quickly that it was a wonder Danny managed to stay on at all; and, while it sounded ridiculous, because there was no light to begin with, the darkness just seemed to grow deeper and deeper and deeper. He was forced to breathe it in; he could taste the musty, ancient scent of the cold air whipping past him. He had to cling to his captor, who in turn clung to him, and an absolutely evil smile lit up those fangs. He knew then, as he might have known before, if he let go once, he would be lost forever down here, and the specter seemed to know it too._

_Down, down, they descended, and the child version of Danny idly recollected bits of hymns from that one time he'd been in Sunday School to hum, though his whistling sort of died away farther in. Every single noise he made seemed to vibrate in this silent place like thunder, and he found himself pressing his lips against his captor's shoulder, willing himself to stay quiet. _

_You never know what might hear you in the dark. Any child knows that much. _

_From an eternity above him, he heard a door slam, and true dread-absolute dread, hysteria, and despair struck themselves into the boy's heart, so much so, it nearly stopped beating. _

_A high, wild burst of laughter that might have been Freakshow's, but he heard a gasp of horror, some more strangled gasping sounds-and then, silence. _

_Then, there was only a gloved hand pressing into the back of his head, and Danny glanced up at the creature's face, shuddering in fear as it offered him a friendly smile that looked all too devious. _

_"Time to wake up now, Danny," it said mildly. "You'll be back here soon enough. I promise you."_

* * *

><p>He could hear birds faintly twittering in the background to one another again. Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he snuggled his face into a soft pillow, sighing slightly with contentment. His body was sore….from what, he didn't know….but he was having a delightful dream about sleeping in a feather bed, or something. He thought he might have been dreaming about something else beforehand, but could not be sure.<p>

After a moment, he was getting a little too warm-the sun shining on half his body must have been fairly strong that day-and he attempted to wriggle away back into his comfortable little nook, where he knew he would fall back to sleep.

But most unexpectedly, a raw, burning pain ripped from the base of his spine, and he froze, breathless, certainly more awake this time. He tried to move a hand down to his back, wondering what in the world could be wrong this time, but when he tried to tug it, he found it caught in something warm. It would not budge.

Startled, Danny opened his eyes, finding himself back in one of Vlad Master's guest bedroom suites. Still a little muddled, he attempted to sit up-no luck there-and slowly turned in the direction of his trapped right hand, which was a little ways away from his body.

He started again; there, sitting in an armchair, was Vlad, head nodding slightly; he was asleep. Danny's hand lay in his, and an opened book lay in the other.

After staring at him with a quipped eyebrow for a moment, memories of last…night? He couldn't tell, though it looked like morning outside of his window-were starting to vaguely trickle in. He'd been scared, Vlad had tried to comfort him (In vain), a light pinch on his arm, and suddenly, he was very tired….kind of like the way he was now…..

He tried to shift in bed, bringing one of his ankles over the other, but no dice there, either. With lidded eyes, he lifted the blankets, and saw that it was set in a light cast. Youch.

While it didn't hurt quite so badly as his back, it still made him wince, and he had a nagging suspicion that it would hurt much more…if he were more himself. His head was throbbing something horrible, and he still felt a little dazed…..

He drew his head to the window. Mmmm….he had to…..had to escape now, right? Yes…..it was a beautiful, beautiful Autumn morning…..shame that he had to ruin it by….by…..um…

Why did he have to ruin it again?

When he glanced back from the window, Vlad was awake, glancing down at the wrist he still held, glancing at his watch, and counting pulse beats quietly. He looked up briefly at Danny, who was now staring at the walls, counting spare fireflies he thought might be there.

"Go back to sleep, little badger."

_'How Come?'_ Danny wanted to ask, but it didn't seem very important. A better question might have been _'Little badger? What have YOU been smoking today, Vlad?' _

But that didn't seem very important, either.

Danny didn't protest when Vlad pushed him back down, though he thought he might have seen stars on his way out; his back was hurting badly. But he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, and did not dream.

* * *

><p>When next he woke, he wondered if he might have only been asleep for a few minutes: the sun was still out, still rising. His ankle burned and itched horrendously, and he groaned, wincing at the pain his back fired in protest when he reached for his right foot, intending to phase the stupid bandage off.<p>

"Do not."

Someone caught his hands, and Danny found himself staring at Vlad once again. This time, it only took a little under a second for the memory to return.

And with it, the fear and anger.

He whipped his hands away, and attempted to roll away so as to stand up, but again, that agony in his back! Gritting his teeth, and biting the inside of his mouth so that he did not make a sound, Danny nearly threw up, face glittering with sweat as he waited out the spasms of pain washing over his body, panting slightly as a hand smoothed over his forehead comfortingly.

A tall, dark-haired, gray-eyed physician was standing behind the billionaire, abnormally pale, and wearing a uniform. Looking not at all surprised by Danny's outburst, the man patiently knelt down beside the bed, reaching for the stethoscope that lay around his neck.

"Daniel….might I ask you your last name?"

Danny only glared at the man wildly, keeping his mouth tightly shut. After a moment's pause, the man shrugged, and simply nodded, whilst consulting a checkboard.

"Very well, I suppose it doesn't matter," he muttered. His voice was rather hoarse for a man that looked so young. "But how are you feeling this morning?"

Danny only looked at him. Unsurprised, the man turned a page .

"Yes, well, I thought so. Only to be expected; your procedure went very well, though I daresay you did lose a lot of blood from it. Mr. Masters had your blood refill supply shipped in from an emergency supply we rotate on hand from our office. In this rare circumstance, my employer's blood was the only donation we could afford to give to you without instant contamination and high risk of infection."

How the heck was that? He remembered faintly he was O-, or something. Wasn't that the universal donor or receiver, or something?

The man went on:

"I'm the leader of Mr. Master's current Emergency Ops team. We certainly aren't used to doing much other than regular checkups with our employer, so you gave us a bit of a scare," the man commented dryly, giving the surprised boy an appraising look. "Your body has been in considerable disrepair for some time now, Daniel-No-Name. And I daresay that the evaluation that we did internally while you were under the knife-"

Color suddenly rushed back into Danny's bloodless face-Vlad hurriedly turned to look at his doctor.

"You did not tell me of this," the man said sharply. "What were the results? Any heart or other blood work needing to be done? Any….ah….well..."

The doctor quickly glanced at Danny, who was desperately shaking his head NO behind the billionaire's back. There was a hint of sadness in his onyx eyes, though t corner of his mouth was twitching. After a moment, the doctor only shook his head.

"Daniel-No-Name will need a few other….procedures done, yes," he said mildly, ignoring Danny's destroyed look. "Only for a touch-up with his back and ankle…..a few other treatments here and there for his back…..he will be fine. If anything else should arise, I'm positive young Master No Name might be able to tell us of them in the future so that we might attempt further examination."

The man smiled faintly while Danny leaned back against his pillows, looking infinitely relieved. Vlad frowned at him for a moment before turning back to his primary doctor, looking unappeased.

"Yes, well, I assure you, we'll be talking more thoroughly of your findings in the distant future."

"With all due respect, sir, only with the boy's request."

Vlad sent a very cold look at the physician, who coolly stared back, before reaching into his pocket for a pipe and a match, much to Danny's surprise. Now, he thought, he might know why this man-who had seriously saved Danny from death by humiliation-had been picked above the other doctors to be the Alpha. This man was not afraid of Vlad, like the other ones so obviously were terrified of him.

He wondered why. Was it only because he was a billionaire?

When Vlad spoke again, he sounded angry, though the calmness that he was trying for just made it all the more threatening.

"You are under my payroll, Max. I must insist that you-"

"The boy is only a child, Mr. Masters," Max said simply. "If he is not yours, I cannot, under Hypocratic Oath, in good conscience-"

"I'm not a child!" Danny interrupted, annoyed. He threw the covers off of himself just as the two adults turned to look at him. Gritting his teeth, Danny attempted to go ghost, and this time, much to his glee, succeeded. Vlad went pale, but Max, surprisingly enough, did not look shocked.

"I wouldn't know. But Daniel No-Name-"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Whatever. Boy, the man has kept true to his word; you have not been harmed."

Floating a few inches above his bed, the teen glanced at his bandaged torso, before giving Max a rueful look. Max's expression did not change.

"Your bandages must be changed every two hours," Max said, now sounding bored, smoking his pipe amicably, though Vlad was making a face. "Can you do that where you're going?"

Doubt flickered across Danny's face.

"I….well….w-well, uh…."

"Can you find painkillers for when the welts sting, if you insist that you will not steal?"

Now, Danny just looked blank.

"How did you know that I don't-"

"Is there somewhere safe for you to recover?"

* * *

><p><em>A Blank Scene.<em>

And after the aforementioned 'blank' scene, Danny's faith was soon restored in the charasmatic Vlad Masters. After relucatantly accepting the entreating man's invitation to stay but a few more days, Danny went back to sleep that night, painfully aware and strangely comforted by the set of unblinking eyes peering down at him in the darkness.

If he'd known of the other set, staring at him ravenously instead of protectively, he probably wouldn't have slept quite so well.

* * *

><p>The days went by slowly at first, one after another. Danny found himself sleeping most of the time, which was heavenly luxurious, considering he A: Hurt most of the time, B: Never got to sleep much at Gothica, C: Had an actual bed to sleep in for the first time in years. A maid brought his meals every few hours, and he was normally too full to finish more than a third of them, especially considering that Mr. Masters insisted on sending one of his butlers with snacks every hour or two between meals. It was flabbergasting, but pretty endearing, especially considering Vlad normally left him notes for his servants to leave him:<p>

_Monday's letter, with breakfast:_

_Dear Daniel, I hope you have a marvelous day-the library is at your leisure, though the maids will be more than happy to bring you any version of home entertainment system you desire. Max will drop in three times today to clean the incisions, and change your bandages. Stay in bed if you can, and eat as much as you can._

_Tuesday's letter, with lunch:_

_Dear Daniel, the servants informed me that you spent most of yesterday asleep. Are you feeling alright? And I ask that you start taking dessert-I was informed that you didn't eat yours, yesterday. Was it not to your liking? Send it back immediately if it is not-my chef is there to cater to you._

_Wednesday's letter, with dinner:_

_Dear Daniel, I received a report back from Max concerning your diet….surely you can do better than that. I'm going to start asking my cook to send you food perhaps a little higher in quantity and quality._

_Thursday's letter, with an 11:00 snack: _

_Max requests that you eat something with your medication. You're going to start taking snacks. _

_Friday's letter, with a 2:00 snack after Lunch:_

_What do you mean, you're not hungry? An apple? For God's sake, boy, you are ten pounds underweight, and this is getting a little infuriating. You're eating supper with me tonight. –Vlad_

Dear man. His sainthood had been restored in the boy's eyes.

While he sorely resented that Vlad had doped him before the operation, he had to grudgingly admit, it was probably for the best. The man was an absolute eccentric, and would tire of him soon enough, but for now, he was…happy.

It was a strange sort of feeling to have after all these years of misery, but what else could you be, warm, clean, dry, full, free, and healing in a bed near a window where the sun was gleaming through the branches of the trees, where Autumn leaves were tumbling? When you got to sleep as much you liked, receive baffling amounts of delicious food when you had fantasized about eating a simple peach so often that your mind went blank from desire? When you had a kind gentleman popping in every once in awhile instead of a leering man with a whip? When you had a weird, weird, glorious angel of sorts who took you under his wing and came by every day after work to ask how you were doing?

Danny feared that he was coming to like the eccentric far too much, as he suspected at any time, Vlad would grow bored of him and turn him out on the street. While the thought came into his mind every time Vlad came in to speak with him, and made their encounters bittersweet, the teen found himself liking the company of his rescuer more than ever. Vlad was forever asking him questions-always easy ones, much to his relief-and, bemused, he complied, stumbling over his words in an attempt to fire an answer back just as quickly as Vlad shot the question back at him.

Did Danny have a favorite dessert? Well, the closest thing he'd HAD to dessert for a few years was a few old apples. While sweet things sometimes surprised him with their sugary shock, he guessed there was little he would not at least try.

Did Danny like any sports? He hadn't been allowed to play any in Gothica, and he'd been hopelessly stumbling over his two feet in PE a few years ago.

Did Danny like any movies? He hadn't seen any for a while, but he vaguely remembered liking a few James Bond films.

Why? He didn't know-he just thought they were kinda cool.

Did Danny prefer the ocean, or the desert? He'd been to both with Gothica, ironically enough, and while he'd never actually been permitted to go to the seaside, he enjoyed looking out of his cage and staring out into a dark, choppy blue sea. The sound of the waves usually lulled him to sleep.

Sunshine, or rain? Uhhhh….it varied, but when you're traveling in a cage, sunshine is normally better. Except in summer, when it's murderously hot outside.

Why couldn't he have a pet as a child? He always wanted a puppy, but his sister had been allergic.

He had a sister? Yes. Could they talk about something el-

Did he like to swim? Yes. Except with sharks. Freakshow had had him doing that in an act, once.

Any allergies? Not that he knew of. Vlad went on and on, sometimes for hours, and occasionally, Danny just blurted out the first thing that came out of his head, bewildered. Vlad hadn't even started talking to him about ghosts yet, which he had claimed was his fascination. When he petitioned Vlad to tell him how he had gotten interested in the career, the billionaire had only muttered that he'd run into a ghost that lived in his grandmother's attic as a boy-one that had an obsession with corrugated cardboard boxes. The story had made Danny laugh, but when he asked to learn more of Vlad's affiliation with ghost technology, the man had only skirted to the side, and warily told him that it was no point of interest. While Danny was faintly suspicious on the matter, he decided to let it slide; Vlad had allowed him to protect his privacy, even under the billionaire's own roof. He could do the same.

Unfortunately, while Vlad's curiosity seemed bottomless, he took care to never touch the boy if he could help it, and once, when Danny had given him his hand to shake in farewell, the man had paused, and shook only by the tips of his fingers, looking nauseated.

While he knew he really shouldn't have cared less, this surprisingly made Danny very sad. He tried to forget about it-and tried to remember films he'd seen like Annie, where an orphan had been 'borrowed' merely for publicity. Maybe that was what Vlad intended to do with him-pretend to have adopted a poor, circus prisoner out of the kindness of his heart, and then turn him away afterwards.

The thought was devastating, and Danny made a mental vow to run away as soon as possible if Vlad ever talked of a press conference coming anywhere NEAR his home. Vlad sometimes talked of his work, media appearances, and of his company, which, while very, very boring to listen to, had that hoity-toitiness that demanded respect, as it was a very wealthy empire, and the sort of complicated thing that people justified in letting it mind its own business, like empires and governments.

He tried not to think of Vlad very much. Only once had he been wheeled down in a chair to have supper with the man, and had been carted back up to his room straight up afterwards. The man was annoyingly egotistic, but respectful, kind, enigmatic, and very elegant. It was like having a dark, comforting alley cat-though he was far too classy to stay in an alley-come to visit, but never stay.

While Danny still felt a little too sore to move in and out of bed much, he occasionally limped to the little library next to his closet, and drew out a classic here and there to read. Much to his embarrassment, reading did not come as easily as it once had to him, but he persisted, and read through three novels before his first week was over. He pored over the pages, exalting in this high-living.

At night, Max helped him remove his back and ankle bandages once again, and Danny enjoyed a warm bath in the tub the size of a small swimming pool, with bubbles and foam that smelled of vanilla and jasmine, or rose and gardenia. To think he'd been used to being held down and hosed off once a week!

Happiness.

He hadn't felt genuinely happy since he had helped Angelina escape, and that happiness had not been long-lasting. THIS was intoxicating, and beautiful.

For the first few days, he was drunk on it. He ignored the maids' requests to bring him something for entertainment, and spent most of his time in solitary meditation on his freedom, gazing out the window, sleeping, bathing- transfixed in peace.

He quietly consented for another operation-this one for his stomach-after a couple of days, and did not struggle, though he still felt nervous as they approached him with the sedatives. Thankfully, he didn't have to be tied down this time.

It was only ever at night when Danny felt a flicker of unease, and the night was filled with eyes peering near his door and window, surrounding him everywhere, as if there were not thousands, but one, enormous eye that he couldn't hide from. Vlad had sharply instructed him to keep all entrances to his bedroom equipped with their alarms (Which looked strangely like the spectral ones his father had once made) which he happily obliged to do. He slept primarily during the day, for at night, he got but little sleep, and his nerves were slightly stretched in the room's melancholy, stomach-twisting vibes.

Occasionally, he felt frustration that was not his own, and anger that was not his own-and the wind was forever beating against his windowpane outside the balcony, as if someone were trying to break in.

But in the morning, he'd have to admit that he was being ridiculous. The world outside was sweet and sunny, and the room was peaceful once dawn came about. He really had an overactive imagination after being in a ghostly circus for too many years.

* * *

><p>One rainy day, the tenth after his arrival, Danny woke up, and found, to his delight, that he could again put pressure on his ankle. It was still sore, but now the pain was bearable, and his back, so long as he did not twist in odd positions, did not hurt nearly as badly as it had done before. While Max had implored him to stay in bed, and ask for anything he might want from the servants, he had only nodded meekly, though the moment Max was gone, the halfa was hurrying away to his closet, and pulling out the long-sleeved, black T-shirt with the blue oval on it, carefully sliding it over his head, wincing as it brushed back his sensitive scars.<p>

Okay, maybe he was just getting a little bit bored, now that he was healing. He'd take a quick glide around the castle-his feet wouldn't even touch the ground, and so Max could hardly argue about that. He'd been dying to check out the manor's grounds for quite some time anyways, and Vlad had never forbid him to.

Yanking on his jeans with only a minor bit of difficulty, Danny turned into his ghost form, and gleefully phased through the wall, just as the maid opened the door with his breakfast, startled to see no one in bed.

* * *

><p><em>'Dude. Would a <span>dozen<span> people need this much space?'_

So thought Danny as he continued drifting down the third floor corridor, hurriedly phasing intangible as he saw a few maids carrying baskets of laundry drift by, talking. He ran his gloved fingertips over the stone of the wall's old bricks-still kept superbly, but incredibly old-and passed through a series of green and gold pennants. Much to his amusement, he found a great deal more of them upon passing a corridor, and finding the carpeting give way to a series of green and gold tiles, all marked with a glossy letter P.

_'P? I thought his last name was…..oh.'_

He passed through another hallway, finding himself surrounded by rows and rows of Packers' memorabilia, all carefully stored behind the shining glass of cabinets. Football helmets, jerseys, a green and gold cheerleading uniform complete with shoes, pom-poms, and, amusingly enough, a cheesehead cap, signed footballs, countless collector posters, (All signed, of course) what looked suspiciously like the 2011 Trophy for the Superbowl victory, plenty of glittering plaques, and, (He cracked up at this once) miniature action figures of some of the more renowned players, still wrapped in their boxes.

Wow. Vlad really was an eccentric. However, it certainly didn't seem akin to a desire to learn more about haunts. If he hadn't known, he would have had to guess that this castle belonged to the Packers' Coach himself. Vlad didn't once mention this during their conversations.

Then again, he really hadn't spoken much of himself at all.

Once he bored of admiring all the merchandise carefully squirreled away by fanatic collecting, Danny drifted away, and, having found nothing more to this hallway other than a Packer's mascot costume, he phased his way up another floor-one he hadn't seen at all, yet.

But before he could even make eye contact with the much more austere and gloomy suits of armor hanging in the lonely hallway, Danny's mind went blank as a pair of spectral hands curled their way around his ankles, and, upon phasing him intangible once again, yanked him through the ground once more.


	6. Visitors, Part II

Phantasma

Visitors, Part II

No, we do not get to see the blank scene just yet. A few more holes are filled in, but not very many. Anyway, please review, as I've decided I'm only going to update when the chapter is akin with the review numbers. (Essentially, I really like where this story is going, but if there aren't at least ten reviews per chapter, I can't really keep up with the amount of work this story needs in order to be told.)

Will see you guys below! *Reads*

* * *

><p>The typical person's response to terror is to scream, but Danny Fenton was far than your typical person, and sometimes, terror is so constricting that it chokes the sound right out of you.<p>

Forest green eyes widening with horror at the feeling of the vice like fingertips clutching at his arm, Danny whipped around, frozen at the creature now simply gazing at him, looking slightly reproving, a little strained, perhaps-

But mostly just amused.

Barely centimeters away, a pair of familiar, bloody red eyes were gazing into Danny's, and the hand that was grasping his gloved arm was cold. Painfully so.

He looked like something your older sister might have teased you about before your parents closed the door, and bid you a good night, leaving you alone in a dark room. But now, not QUITE alone, for the night now has a face, and it has scary teeth, etched into a charming, gentle smile.

But something deep within his eyes told a different story, one Danny was quite certain he did not want to hear.

The vampiric creature opened his mouth to speak, but years of reflexes that had not quite died in the Dark Circus sparked into life, akin to factory machinery that has been left neglected and dusty, but still able to hum and whirl to life underneath the rusting surface. Danny immediately phased his hand away, and, with his free palm, sent a burst of electoplasmic energy straight into the monster's chest cavity.

The blue-skinned ghost's eyes widened in astonishment, and the monster opened his mouth in a slight, inaudible gasp as he was slammed into the neighboring wall, narrowly missing a portrait of the stately Vladimir Masters, and dropped to the ground like a fly, seeing stars flash before his eyes.

Wild with anger and fright, Danny sent another bolt of energy towards the regally caped ghost, and while the haunt looked stunned, it had at least the good sense to roll out of the way and cartwheel into the air out of the way before the blast could strike his face.

Old battle reflexes reminding him that victory generally belonged to the one holding the higher ground, Danny rocketed as high as in the air as he could go, and fired three more shots at the ghost, face gleaming with exertion, though his body's physical pain was quite forgotten.

Unnervingly enough, the ghost didn't try to flee as the emerald green flames roared towards him; he only gazed at the teen above him, smiling sardonically. Effortlessly twirling his palm to spin a pink frame of glass into existence, the ghost lazily extended his hand, and easily met all three blasts of energy speeding in his direction, which meekly bounced off. Danny had to duck in midair just to avoid one of his own heading straight back to him.

Danny cast the ghost an ugly scowl, and raised his hand to send yet another bolt at him, but thought better of it. He needed to get this horrible creature out of the house, before they could damage anything, before Mr. Masters could come home from work and get caught up in all of this.

Turning intangible, Danny shot through the ceiling, and the ghost followed, no longer smiling. Phasing tangible once again, Danny found himself now in a significantly gloomier hallway, which was filled with hundreds of candles glittering serenely in dark tapers.

Landing lightly on the ground, Danny cautiously took a light step back, freezing when the sound echoed in the chamber like thunder, keen senses prickling. His eyes flashed frantically this way and that, falling upon an enormous portrait that was hanging on the wall behind him, covered in violet silk drapery.

However, he didn't have much time to admire the décor, as the grim-eyed ghost rose out of the aged stone, like some horrible angel from a long-forgotten time. Danny abruptly sent an arctic blast towards the ghost, but before he could even blink, the ghost had vanished, and the icy energy soared on, settling upon the opposite wall into a fine, twinkling layer of frost.

Startled, Danny took another step backwards, but a pair of hands had seized his shoulders, and they forced the astonished boy down to the ground, his face smacking against the stone, and his head swum with pain before he blindly attempted to phase himself away, but his another hand seized him by the scruff of his neck, and sent a bolt of what felt like raw, searing heat through his body, making his vision go momentarily scarlet with pain.

His senses were on fire, and every fiber of his body was blistering from heat. Gasping in agony, Danny's mind reeled, forcing the transformation rings that suddenly burst at his waist to slide backwards, before his human half could be exposed. He heard someone howling in the distance-was that him?-and his dying mind suddenly registered with alarm that there were still two hands on his shoulders, forcing him down, but there was still a molten-hot hand at his spine-

_There was more than one of him! _

But just as soon as it had started, it was over, and Danny found himself trembling on a bitterly cold stone floor, shaking with adrenaline or fear. He heard a gasp from above him, a slight puff, and he was amazed to see pink smoke evaporating in the air before his eyes when the room came back into proper focus. A pair of hands carefully turned him over, one hand cradling his head, the other reaching for his hand.

Again, were those red eyes staring down at him. But now, the _ghost_ was the one panicking.

"Oh, my word, oh my word, boy, are you alright?"

The ghost moved his hand away from Danny's pulse to his forehead, and the teen warily cringed away, not wanting the fiery bolts of pain on him anytime soon. The deathly-skinned specter's brow furrowed for a moment, and its jaw set, but soon enough, it was babbling something.

"My word….could have….could have seriously hurt you there…Phantom child, are you hurt, my boy? Do I need to get you anything-carry you back to your room? Ugh, dear, Masters will have my _head _for this one…."

The ghost than attempted to scoop up Danny, but the teen immediately danced away, still glowering, and immediately shot into the air again like a bullet. His opponent surged forwards, and, in a wink, had teleported once more in a puff of smoke, and seized Danny's foot. Shocked, Danny immediately phased out of his grip, and proceeded to fly straight through the wall, ignoring the ghost's shouts.

"Phantom! Ghost child! Oh, for the love of-_COME BACK HERE_!"

But Danny would not listen, for he was in flight or fight mode, and now, it was high time he got out of here. At the very least, he needed to finish the intruder outdoors, or at least lure him as far away as he could get him from his kind benefactor. Vlad could not be allowed to get hurt.

The idea made Danny jet intangibly across hundreds of layers of concrete and marble foundation, until open, cool air enveloped him, and cool rain was suddenly pelting against his flushed, peach-dusted skin.

Danny flew away from the beautiful castle, flying over the sea of emerald that was the majestic hall's grounds, covered in roses, which were gently swaying to the wind whipping and moaning overhead.

He recognized where he was-this was the outdoor hedge maze he'd seen when Mr. Masters had brought him here just two weeks ago. Perfect. Still glancing back at the castle apprehensively, Danny began to dive down into the heart of the rose maze, looking for a suitable place to hide and take the attacker by surprise.

….okay, in all fairness, HE'D attacked the ghost to begin with, but he had never, ever wanted to see a ghost again after his misery in Gothica. The idea of a good ghost-including himself-seemed laughable to him now, and the specter was probably haunting this lovely old place, out to drive Mr. Masters and any other occupants out. He had to stop him.

Drawing a gloved hand over his eyes, blinking at the raindrops, Danny sank into a dead-ended mire, which was surrounded by a trail that looked so complex that it looked like it would take the average person days to get out of it, and went to hide behind a large series of pillars, phasing intangibly beside a sea of full blown, but somehow sorry-looking white roses.

He turned around, and, what he saw next made his jaw drop, and despite the fact that the situation was desperate, he was numb with disbelief.

There, perched between two bubbling fountains, was a stone angel; not one of the small ones you occasionally saw atop of tombs-this was one was enormous, and its wings were stretching into the sky, every single enchanting, perfect feather of the wings expertly carved out, probably by some genius craftsman. He remembered that he'd seen a hint of this articulately created thing when the limousine had driven past it, and even asked a question about it to Mr. Masters just a day or so before concerning it, but the man had avoided the question and just murmured something about a lawn ornament.

But Danny wasn't really impressed by the fact that the angel was so beautiful, or the fact that it was wearing strange clothing, or twirling in such a strange and graceful way it most certainly must be dancing.

It was a stone tribute of HIM, in one of the outfits he'd briefly worn as _Phantasma_, during a performance where he'd become the angel of dance, or something else just as stupid.

Flummoxed, and slightly bemused, Danny momentarily forgot about the other ghost, and stepped closer to the tribute, staring at its features.

Its hair, its clothing, its limbs-yep, there was no mistaking it, this was either scary and all too convenient coincidence, a saint or something that resembled his ghost form…..AND had his DP module….AND his old costume Freakshow had forced him into…AND that pirouetting spiral that Lydia had spent days teaching him to perfect during an allegretto….

Danny walked around the stone figure, uncertainly tapping at its boot with a knuckle.

Well, the artist must have exaggerated a little: He wasn't THAT scrawny, or that feminine looking, and he most certainly didn't have wings exploding out of his back.

This was…..okay, slightly flattering, but the fact that every detail of his face, from his brow, to his spiky hair, to his eyes….

Face flushing, and feeling sick with anxiety, he backed away from the small statue, stomach turning somersaults.

One minute, he was trapped under Freakshow's foot, and was being told that he was scum of the world, and now, freaky-obsessive billionaires were building statues of him. How was this even happening? He didn't know whether he should take off right now or take it as a slightly sweet, if not also slightly creepy gesture.

He noticed a sprawl of elegant writing on a gleaming gold plaque at the figure's feet on a pedestal, hiding behind a few stray wild blooms. Danny knelt, and carefully brushed them aside, squinting slightly at the text he saw before him:

_Mi Amato _

Well, that was no help. He didn't speak….foreign.

Frowning slightly in disappointment, Danny stepped away from the little statue, wondering vaguely what he should do now. Leave Vlad a 'Thanks for saving my life, you're swell' note, before he fled the country?

Oh. Wait. Duh. Crazy wicked bad guy alert. That was kind of important, too.

Danny turned around to stare at the castle looming in the distance. The creature had not followed him out of the stained glass windows-where was he? Did he even bother following him? Danny had heard faintly of certain poltergeists who only pester you to the point where you leave their dwelling entirely in his time at the circus-maybe the red-eyed ghost was one of those.

But wouldn't he have tormented the billionaire, too? Poltergeists did some truly awful things to get their way, and yet the man had never mentioned this ghost before. Did he even know he existed?

Distracted, Danny drew his arms slightly around himself, his breath making a small puff in the chilly air, sending the frolicking version of himself (He resented that slightly) a slightly disgusted look. Vlad had said that he found him interesting, but did he actually-

"Hello, Ghost Boy," purred a voice from behind him, barely audible over the raindrops fluttering to the world. "I see you've met your likeness."

The ghost held up his hands wearily as Danny instinctively moved into a fighting position, looking just as spent as a parent who has to the deal with the antics with a naughty six year old.

"Peace, child. I mean you no harm," he said sincerely, sighing sadly when Danny glided a few more feet away, face white. Something twitched at the corner of the ghost's mouth at the child's response, but he looked earnest, and he held out his arms entreatingly.

_Who the hell are you?_ Danny longed to ask, but said nothing, although his eyes narrowed. Both ghosts were now effectively soaking wet, and now thunder was booming in the distance again. Danny closed his eyes, fatigue suddenly slamming into his own body, and exertion was making his thin limbs buckle slightly. His skin still slightly tingled from where the ghost had burned him, and his back was aching. Thankfully, neither of the two was on the ground, so the haunt couldn't see him prefer one foot over the other, either.

Maybe the ghost was just some long-forgotten spirit, who wanted human aid with something before they passed to the…whatever it was ghosts had, if they had anything at all after they'd died, and left walking shadows on the Earth, fueled by their obsession drive. Up until two years ago, certain ghosts had heard of Danny's title, and rather than avoid him, they had come to him, asking that he bury their remains or right some injustice so that they could pass on peacefully, and agree to do no harm.

"…..what do you want?" Danny asked cautiously, keeping his distance. This ghost was certainly strong, he'd give him that, and gifted, but he could probably take him. IF he had to fight it, that was.

The ghost gave him a puzzled look.

"Right now? To apologize. I hurt you, and I'm sorry," he said simply, and while mistrust immediately ignited in Danny, he couldn't help but notice that the ghost did look somewhat contrite. "I wasn't expecting to meet you quite so soon, although I must confess that I've been very eager to talk to you, Ghost Boy. I've heard much of you, even following your disappearance as some little town's self-appointed deputy."

Now, Danny was even more on his guard.

"How did you know I was here?" If the ghost was malicious, he needed to find some way of leaving, without igniting the ghost's suspicions, find Vlad somehow (He said he was working at DALV, which was downtown….it couldn't be VERY hard to find) and warn him to flee.

The ghost blinked, as if Danny were asking what the sum of two and two is.

"….well, dear boy," he began hesitatingly. "I _live_ here. I have for many years. I was once the owner of this estate-" He gestured carelessly to the grandeur around the two-"And now, I simply wander its halls when I am in want for amusement. I happened to get a glimpse of you the first night you happened to arrive; I must confess that I was very excited, for there is scarcely anyone INTERESTING inside of my home, anymore."

Red and white cape waving wildly like a flag behind him, the ghost sighed long-sufferingly, a gloved hand moving to stroke his goatee thoughtfully.

"No one ever wants to talk; I frighten the servants away if I draw too near. It's a lonely sort of existence, being a ghost, and I hoped that you might have some interesting stories to tell-or, at the very least, I hoped you might be good at a game of-"

"Wait a second," Danny interrupted impatiently, now more confused than anything else. "You don't want to actually harm anyone?"

Now, the ghost looked offended.

"Excuse me? Gracious, do you suppose that I want to run around shouting 'boo' and threatening to eat people's children? It's like assuming all people want to have our sort-yours and mine-thrown in a cage and left for buzzards to pick at our decaying ectoplasm. Do you believe that's true?"

A cruel stab of pain suddenly struck hard at Danny, and the boy had to look away. The ghost's expression softened somewhat.

"Forgive me; that was a crude terminology to use, given your experiences. But no, Ghost Child. I don't want to hurt anyone, nor do I have any grudge or resentment against the current owner of this house, Mr. Masters."

The way he said it was mild enough, but his hands slowly curled into trembling fists. Thankfully, this escaped Danny, much to the specter's continued mirth.

"So….Vlad….he, um….knows you live here?"

This was dangerous. The billionaire would be the ultimate downfall of his plans if this was taken too lightly. Or too heavily. Either or would have catastrophic results, and Plasmius could not allow that to happen.

"Yes. He's a rather eccentric fellow, that Vladimir," he said simply, flowing around the stone statue of Phantasma, eyeing it somewhat disinterestedly. "I was a man of good fortune in my life, but he has more money than he knows what to do with….I suspect that lead to the creation of this statue."

He glanced up at Danny, and gently murmured,

"Do not take it too closely to heart, my boy-you look troubled. Once Vladimir takes even the SLIGHTEST interest in something, you can expect to see it in this dwelling, even after he tires of it."

The memory of the Packers memorabilia flowed through his mind, and Danny felt somewhat better, in spite of himself. The ghost went on:

"Mr. Masters is currently on a spectrology kick-I do not know how long it will last. Ghosts of all natures used to fascinate him, which meant that he was delighted to hear that ghosts still frequented the house he wished to purchase many years ago."

"'Ghosts?'" Danny repeated, eyes growing wide, unhappiness blooming inside of him. "There…..are…more of you?"

The ghost looked at him, and glided forwards in the rain. Danny couldn't bring himself to move away, even when the red-eyed specter stood just a few feet away from him, hovering a few inches in the air.

"Yes. My boy, does that bother you?"

Danny said nothing. The ghost went on-

"After my hold on this place was relinquished with my death, the Wisconsin Dairy King saw fit to move inside."

Danny looked up to stare, but the ghost continued:

"Now THAT was a strange fellow; all he ever wanted to talk about was food, food, food. Or cows," he added dryly, and Danny found the slightest hint of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. "I didn't mind him very much because he was gracious, if not a bit….ah…addled upstairs," he added, pointing at his temple. "And, even after he passed on, he occasionally came to visit this place, although Mr. Masters doesn't like for him to do so; he has a tendency to break into the icebox and 'borrow' ice cream, cheddar, milk, or butter."

Now, Danny couldn't suppress a small giggle, and the ghost smiled at it. But quickly regaining his composure, he quickly asked:

"So, it's just you two? And what does Vlad think about YOU?"

The ghost's shoulders sagged; he looked like he'd been afraid of that question, and he was.

"Well….yes and no. The Dairy King comes only once in a blue moon; I like to come more often, if only to browse the library. Another ghost occasionally haunts it-my old librarian, Edmund. He's harmless, really-just likes to borrow a few old titles every now and again and work on another one of his masterpieces. Provided that you don't mistreat your books-I can't say I've ever had a servant whack my fingertips with a dictionary before-and that you are very quiet in the Masters' Library, he will…what do you youngsters say? 'Live and let live?'"

The ghost looked at him, and, for some reason or another, Danny felt slightly comforted looking into his eyes, if not just a bit lightheaded. Then, the ghost started speaking again:

"We're an odd group, but none of us will harm you, child," he said gently, and Danny shivered. The way the old ghost was speaking….he hadn't heard such a tone in years. He'd felt the same wistfulness when Vlad would talk to him, and spoil him and fuss over him, hearing a parent's tones.

But now, while these tones sounded SLIGHTLY familiar, he wasn't sure how or why. It sounded like a mix of something his parents had once used on him when he was very small, and very sick, with a mixture of what his 'girlfriend' in Amity Park had once said on Valentine's Day quite some time ago.

So absorbed in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice when the ghost started speaking again.

"As for Vladimir Masters and I…well, we've met," he said shortly, and Danny got the impression that he didn't like talking about Mr. Masters. "He was fascinated by me and the other two ghosts for a short period of time when he first moved in….I was rather charmed, for I now had someone to talk to. Edmund never has much patience for human…or ghostly society, and I took little pleasure in the Dairy King's sporadic appearances. We spent time together-he asked me questions constantly. I was flattered, and we spent evenings simply talking while Mr. Masters had tea, and I had someone to play checkers or a fetching game of chess with.

But after a while, he grew bored of my company, as I didn't have any exciting tales of revenge or stories of woe to occupy his interest. He also began obsessing over a young ghost phenomena that he'd recently began seeing in a sideshow, and started tracking him all over the country. Soon enough, he was rarely home, and when he was, whenever I attempted to approach him, he would dismiss me, or send me off to do some chore or task for him. Soon after I completed this task, I would return to him, only to have him close the door in my face. I got the hint, and soon enough, he was requesting that I stay on the fourth floor only, where people were less likely to visit during one of his business parties at the castle, and I not scare anyone. I was also instructed to stay out of sight of any servants, which is a little irritating, considering that this was once MY house," he admitted, sounding annoyed.

"And when YOU came, dear boy, I badly wanted to meet with you, but Mr. Masters said, in no uncertain terms, that I was to leave you alone. Surely the sight of a ghost after your horrific experiences would terrify you, and not help your condition. I decided to respect his wishes, although I did try to stop you when you were preparing yourself to visit a new floor of the castle-one I'M strictly forbidden from visiting. Mr. Masters has a special alcove on that floor that he allows no one to visit, including his servants, and he once caught me hovering near the area. He threatened to have me exorcised, and he does have surveillance cameras on that floor. While we were merely in the Chamber of Candles, if we had moved into another hall, you would have been found out, and Mr. Masters may have decided then and there to throw you out, even in your condition. Not that it gave me any excuse to hurt you, dear boy," the ghost finished, raising his dripping face up apologetically. "And I do hope you'll forgive me for that."

After a few moments of terse silence, Danny's rigid shoulders relaxed, and the boy sighed, now exhausted, ashamed, and shocked.

This poor, lonely ghost. It had never meant him any harm at all-it had just been trying to warn him. _He,_ Danny corrected himself. How many times had people called him 'it' from the outside of his cage?

He couldn't possibly imagine Vlad being that cruel, or that selfish, or that hardhearted. Unfortunately, he had to admit that it WAS plausible; Vlad Masters was a strange man. Kind one minute, hard the next, obsessive, domineering, and brooding.

What would happen when Vlad grew tired of HIM? It had to happen eventually, but Danny couldn't dwell on that. Despite the fact that his instincts were screaming at him to continue this fight, Danny at last held up a hand.

He had to apologize. Technically speaking, even if he hadn't attacked the ghost, he would have had to; if not for him, Vlad would still be seeking the ghost's company.

"I'm….really sorry," he said sheepishly, moving a hand behind his head as the ghost gleefully took his hand in his. It felt so _warm _now. "I just saw you, jumped to conclusions, panicked, and I-" He was too embarrassed to say the rest.

The ghost gave him another kind look.

"Think nothing of it, ghost boy. I-"

"Danny."

"Beg pardon?"

"My name." He'd had the name Phantasma for two years; any excuse to have his actual name suited him just fine. "Just Danny."

The ghost smiled again.

"Well, 'Just Danny,' my name, should you care to use it, is Plasmius. At the very least, that is my surname," he continued, when Danny gave him a curious look. "Ironically enough, Mr. Masters and I both have the same first name, but I'd rather neither of us get confused over such matters."

Danny just nodded, teeth chattering by this time. The ghost looked at him, and frowned.

"Gracious, boy, what am I all about, allowing you to be out in this weather? You'll catch your death. Come now-back to the castle. You need a pair of new clothes, a warm bath, and bed."

~0*0~

You really couldn't say that Plasmius wasn't a pleasant person to talk to. By the time that the two now-rather sorry looking ghosts had arrived back at the castle, Danny had learned that like Mr. Masters, Plasmius had enjoyed football in his lifetime, although he preferred rugby, and he was upset no one in the United States played it professionally anymore. He was a bibliophile, collected buttons, rare minerals, and he and Danny got into an interesting conversation about them even whilst Plasmius gently shooed Danny into his wardrobe, closed the door, and continued talking to him while Danny got changed out of his wet clothes, and headed into the bathroom. Thankfully, the two could hear each other quite easily, although Danny sometimes wondered at the fact that Plasmius' voice seemed closer to his ear than he thought it should be.

And the name struck a familiar chord in his memory. He wondered why.

After Danny was done bathing, the servants had already left his hot lunch on a tray near his bed, and Max had left him his daily medication. While he sort of resented the fact that he had to go back to bed, at least the blue-skinned ghost was sitting in the chair Vlad normally occupied, and the two could cheerfully argue about which minerals came from outer space, and why.

It was the most at home Danny had felt in two years.

Afternoon slipped into evening, and Danny scarcely touched his dinner, although he had to keep gulping water for his throat-he couldn't remember a time he had talked so much. At last, Plasmius had gently admonished him for not eating enough-as if Vlad had not done that already-and had taken his leave, sweeping his gloved hand on Danny's head as he left, just as Vlad had once done, although Plasmius did not at all seem to react as though he were handling something unseemly, horrific, or disgusting.

Danny swallowed as much as he could, and at last, had fallen into a light doze, woken two hours later by a polite tapping at the door. He'd hoped it was Plasmius, who was too much the gentleman to simply phase through a wall, but it was Vlad Masters, coming in with a soft greeting and small smile.

The boy watched him carefully as he came into the room. While the awe and respect he had for Vlad was certainly still there, now, confusion and mistrust was prickling at him once again, especially after Vlad drew out a small, ivory-covered envelope, and offered it to him.

Upon reading its contents, his heart sank like a stone.

* * *

><p>Ugh. So mundane. He'd been ready to slit his own wrists out of sheer boredom. How perfectly dull. And soon enough, he was going to have to take care of a certain…ah…<em>problem<em> of his. He'd wanted nothing more than to grab the boy he wanted, and take him ragged into the ground, pushing and pushing into him over and over again. His lust was nearly insatiable, unbearable, and it was made all the more keen by Vlad's interest in Phantasma.

It was certainly very dull, pretending that he cared about stupid things like stones, but it had made the child happy, although Plasmius could think of a few more activities that would certainly be more interesting. While the boy had very obviously been taken before-forcibly-and Masters was too much of an idiot to fully realize that yet, it didn't matter. Plasmius craved the exotic little boy, but he had to exercise control over his hunger. If he only took Danny, without getting the young halfa to tell him that he _wanted _him, then his end of the contract would be void, and not only would the insufferable little brat loathe and fear him, he would not get to take Danny away.

After what he'd done to Vlad's first love, he wasn't surprised that the woman had given her son away, although the boy now bore grievous wounds on his aching heart.

In that case, he would be the soft voice of sympathy, and would counter Masters' harshness, for it would come soon enough when Vladimir Masters could no longer stand to even LOOK at the boy, let alone be in the same room together. It would happen. All he would have to do was sit back, allow Vlad's greed and guilt consume him, and Danny would come running into his arms.

And after that, it would be time for the boy to grant him his human heart, and Plasmius would be sated in more than one way.

Listening to Vlad explain his current situation to the boy, a smirk curled onto the features of the horrific entity, who watched unseen from a distance, terrible glee igniting in his heart.

So, Vlad was holding a ball at his home next week, eh? Something ridiculous for DALV, and the man had tried to book an ornate hotel instead. However, the man could not cancel, and was now asking whether or not the boy felt healthy enough to attend.

He heard Danny murmur a polite affirmation, although he could tell the boy looked very much like he did NOT want to go, and wished that his benefactor had not asked him. But sweet, idiotic types like his boy felt obligated to go.

Oh, how splendid. Cinderella was going to the ball.

Well….if he could convince Danny to leave his doors and windows unlocked at night, all it would take was a little strain here, a little strain there, and, should something truly awful _happen_ to occur at the party, and Danny should snap, it would, at the very least, bring the little badger just a little closer to his arms.

And a cold eternity in his bed.

* * *

><p>Dum-dum-DUUUUUUMMMMMMM! Yes, if you haven't already guessed it, Plasmius is a HUGE LIAR and he's EVIL! Run Danny, run for your life! :o<p>

Next chapter: _Ball_.


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